Pseudonymously
by xXdreameaterXx
Summary: John Smith knows two things 1 He definitely has a crush on his secretive editor who publishes his erotic novels and 2 Clara Oswald, who keeps refusing his science fiction stories, is a stupid cow. Clara Oswald is certain of two things 1 She would do about anything for a night with the Doctor and 2 that John Smith, who keeps begging her to publish his sci-fi novels, is a rude arse.
1. Chapter 1

**Pseudonymously**

 _John Smith knows two things for sure: 1. He definitely has a crush on his secretive editor who publishes his erotic novels and 2. Clara Oswald, the woman who keeps refusing his science fiction stories, is a stupid cow. Clara Oswald is certain of two things: 1. She would do about anything for a night with the Doctor and 2. that John Smith, who keeps begging her to publish his sci-fi novels, is a rude arse._

 _But what happens when they find out who the other is?_

 **Chapter 1**

John Smith opened his laptop and took a large sip from his morning coffee, feeling that little jab of excitement in his belly as he noticed the one new e-mail that wasn't a reminder for something he had recently looked up on Ebay or some offer to buy _performance enhancing_ pills. No, this e-mail was a good one. It came from his publisher. John took another sip and leaned back to read it.

 _Good morning, Doctor,_

 _I hope you slept well and had some more wonderful dreams because the last one you've written down was simply amazing. I must admit, I had to lock my office door to read it because I didn't want to be interrupted. And also because my face probably turned the darkest shade of red that is humanly possible and my colleagues would have asked questions. So, congratulations, after three novels you can still make me blush ;-) Consider the short story approved. Definitely approved. Now I'm eagerly waiting for the next one. This book is going to be a hit, I can feel it!_

 _I don't know why you're so interested in what my cat is doing, but I've attached a picture of him because I know you won't give up. He's settling in very well and has taken to sleeping in the flower pot recently. Now I feel bad for watering the plant and I'll probably need a new one soon. Or better yet a plastic one that doesn't require watering. But seriously, why are you so fascinated by my cat? I actually think it's pretty sad that a 30 year old woman spends her time reading erotic stories and talking to her cat. And now you know my biggest secret, so I think it would only be fair if you told me yours._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _The Impossible Girl._

 _P.S. Hurry up with the next story ;-)_

John smiled to himself as he read those lines, feeling a stab of pride because he had managed to make the Impossible Girl blush. She had been reading, editing and publishing his erotic fiction ever since he had figured out that he could try to make a living of them. It was working. The erotic stories published under his pseudonym The Doctor were doing a lot better than his _real_ books, which still hadn't found a publisher, and John was beginning to think that maybe they never would.

He went to open the attached file and the smile instantly returned to his face at the sight of the little, ginger cat winding around his owner's feet and biting into her toe. Even though it was a cute photo, John had to admit that he had hoped for a little more. The Impossible Girl was an alias, just like the Doctor, and when they had started to exchange e-mails about his stories, he had known nothing else about the woman behind it. It was the publishing company's rule, ensuring that authors who did not want to share their true identity felt safe sharing their stories by giving them an anonymous editor. The Impossible Girl wouldn't find out who the Doctor was and he would never find out who she was. But the thing was. . . John wanted to find out.

In the beginning their e-mails had been strictly professional, just a normal exchange between an author and his contact at the publishing company, but over the last two years their relationship had evolved. It had started out with smalltalk, nothing big, nothing fancy, but John had noticed her sense of humour even then and he had liked it from the start. The Impossible Girl was intelligent, witty, funny and wasn't afraid to speak her mind and he had started to look forward to her messages on a level that could not be called a mere excitement about his work. Then, one day, she had admitted that it was the two year anniversary of her boyfriend's death. John, having lost his wife years ago, had felt the need to comfort her and ever since their e-mails had started to become a lot more personal. That had been almost a year ago now and still he didn't know her real name, but he knew one thing for certain: He really wanted to find out. John had a crush on her and he didn't even know what she looked like.

He took his time typing a nice, equally witty reply while he finished his morning coffee and sent it. When he was done, John exhaled sharply. Now it was time for his meeting with the person who seemed to be the Impossible Girl's complete opposite: Clara Oswald. John shuddered at the thought of crawling up to that awful woman, who kept refusing his science fiction novel no matter how often he re-wrote it. Maybe today she would like it. Maybe today he would have a bit of luck.

* * *

 _Good morning, Impossible Girl,_

 _now, my dreams are usually a secret I can't share with anyone, but I think I can make an exception in your case ;-) I remember dreaming about a mysterious woman who kept her name and face hidden from me. I chased her forever. I wasn't sure whether she genuinely didn't want anything to do with me or if she was just playing with me. But when I had finally reached her and was about to look at her face, I woke up. This dream is still driving me mad._

 _What about you? Did you have nice dreams or did your cat keep you up all night? It's definitely a cute one and he seems to like your feet at lot. Do you still have all of your toes?_

 _As for the stories, I'm doing my best. I suspect I will finish the next one in two or three days and you will be the very first person to know when that happens. I hope you will like it because I included something just for you ;-)_

 _The Doctor._

"Just tell me if you want me to leave," Amy's voice tore Clara from her thoughts about the recent e-mail and she looked up at her friend and client, only now noticing that she was still smiling because of the Doctor's words.

"Sorry," she uttered instantly, trying to hide just how exited she was about the message, "I just wanted to check this e-mail."

The smile on Amy's face was sheepish and Clara just instantly knew what was going to follow. "It's that Doctor, isn't it? When will you finally ask him out?!"

"I can't," Clara sighed. She wanted to. She really did. "I'm not even allowed to know his name."

"You're my publisher _and_ my friend. Are you telling me that's forbidden as well?" her friend raised her eyebrows.

"Of course not, but this is different. He's using a pseudonym, so I have to do the same. It's to protect the clients who don't want to be recognized. And I'm pretty sure he'd turn down an offer to go out and then it would get really awkward," she argued because it was the truth. Even if the Doctor wanted to get to know her in person, which she doubted, they would be breaking the rules.

"You still know you want to," Amy said matter-of-factly.

Again Clara sighed. Yes. Yes, she did. At first she had only valued the Doctor as a very talented author and she had been so glad to have been assigned to him. But then their conversations had started to turn more and more personal and Clara was fairly certain that they were already breaking the rules by just doing that. She couldn't even say how exactly it had started, but on the second anniversary of Danny's death Clara had felt so sad and lonely that she had confided in the Doctor. The flirting, however, had been a rather recent development and Clara had to admit that she was enjoying it more than just a little.

Almost three years without a man in her life had already made her get a cat and now she seemed to be falling for a man she had never even seen before. But it wasn't his looks Clara was interested in. If the Doctor was just half as good in bed as his erotic novels made it seem, he definitely knew how to please a woman. And it had been almost three years.

Suddenly a note popped up on her computer screen and Clara was instantly reminded of the one appointment she had tried her hardest to ignore up until the last minute. John Smith. That annoying man just wouldn't give up and Clara was beginning to run out polite ways to turn him and his stupid novels down.

"I'm sorry, Amy," Clara said, "I'm afraid I'm really gonna have to ask you to leave. I've got another appointment."

She rolled her eyes at the pure thought of it. When would John Smith finally leave her in peace? Of course Clara knew the answer to that question. The day she decided to publish his novels, but she certainly wouldn't have her name written under a pile of crap like that.

"You don't seem excited about this one," Amy noted.

"No," she growled, "This one is the worst."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the first reviews :D Looks like the Doctor and the Impossible Girl get along marvelously. But what about John and Clara?_

 **Chapter 2**

There was no polite way to express how much he really didn't want to deal with Clara Oswald right now. John had been to her office about five times in the past few months and each time she had refused his novel in the most arrogant of ways. He had tried to be nice at first, but his patience was running out. Maybe today she would finally accept his writing, after all, it was the 5th version he would present to her.

John knocked and entered the room without waiting for her sign, obviously catching Clara off guard as she almost jumped up from her desk. The smile that had been on her face before swiftly faded away and was replaced by the deep frown she usually reserved for him.

"You do realize that knocking doesn't actually do much good if you still barge in without waiting to be invited inside," she spat at him, the lines on her face deepening.

"Yes," John hissed in reply as he stepped closer, "But I'm in a hurry and you don't seem to be busy, so let's get this over with."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Charming as always, I see. Come on, hand it over." She outstretched her hand and John handed her the first five pages of his book, along with the rest of it on a flash drive.

He was about to sit down and wait for her to finish reading, but Clara dropped the pages after only a few seconds.

"No," she said brusquely.

John scoffed. "You can't have read more than the first sentence."

"I don't need to read more than the first sentence. It's crap," Clara leaned back in her seat and stared at him. There was something about her pose that was just daring him to fight back and yet he felt the anger rise up inside him, rendering him speechless for a moment. He had known Clara Oswald was a stupid bitch, but she always managed to surprise him by being worse than he would have thought.

"I'm certain that if you read more than just the first sentence, you would change your opinion," John replied as nicely as possible.

"Science fiction is dead, Mr Smith. No one wants to read yet another novel about the colonisation of foreign planets or-"

"Ha!" he exclaimed and raised his hand to point at her, grinning broadly, "It's not about that. My book is about time travel."

Clara snorted in reply. "That's actually worse," she paused for a moment, "Please, do us both a favour. Take your book and go home. Find a different hobby. It's time for you to acknowledge that writing just isn't your thing and that's okay. Some people were born to do it, others weren't."

John opened his mouth to reply. He wanted so much to tell her the truth, to tell her that he had already successfully published three novels and that one of her colleagues was dying for him to finish the fourth. He _could_ write and he could do it well, but Clara Oswald would never understand that. If she didn't understand science fiction, she sure as hell wouldn't understand erotica. No, that woman was boring and frigid.

"I demand a different editor," he said instead, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "You obviously suck at your job, so I want to talk to someone else."

In response Clara simply laughed. "Mr Smith, I can assure you, I am very good at my job, which is the reason I keep turning you down. Also this isn't a buffet. You can't just pick and choose – unfortunately, or otherwise I'd have sent you straight to another colleague. You've been assigned to me, so you're staying with me. End of discussion."

John inhaled sharply.

"Save your breath," Clara told him, "I know, it hurts to be told the truth, but you're just not any good."

He snorted. "We'll see about that, Miss Oswald," John said and was about to turn around when he suddenly thought of something else, "Oh, and about the truth. You're right, it does hurt, but I'm an unpublished author until I do get published. You will always be a stupid cow."

John spun around on his heels and marched out of her office before Clara could throw anything else at him and slammed the door shut behind him.

He exhaled sharply once he was outside, glad to have finally gotten this meeting over with, if not with the intended result, and yet he was more furious than before. John thought that he should find it funny because he was a published author already and Clara Oswald calling him untalented was just further proof that she really wasn't as good at her job as she claimed. He had talent and he knew it, but he also had to convince Clara of that. Maybe at the next attempt. Maybe after he had rewritten the beginning of his story once again and maybe he should add a couple of reviews of recently published science fiction novels to show her that it wasn't as dead as Clara Oswald thought.

His anger slowly began to fade as he walked along the corridors and his mind suddenly wandered back to the Impossible Girl. She worked inside this very building somewhere. He could have walked past her office on the way to see Clara Oswald. He could have met her already and John wouldn't even know it. As he passed one of the employees on the corridor, John tried to recall everything he knew about her. The Impossible Girl was 30 years old and she was single, but that seemed to apply to about a third of the entire staff and he had no idea what she looked like. Was she a brunette? A blonde? Tall? Short? It was hopeless. He would never recognize her.

All of a sudden John came to an abrupt halt as a woman bumped into him when she darted out of the ladies' room.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," she blurted out, her Scottish accent heavy.

John looked up, straight into her pretty face that was framed by long, red hair. She was around thirty. It could be her.

"D-don't worry," John spluttered and smiled at her, "No major damage."

"I should just watch where I'm going," the woman said and raised her hand to stroke a strand of hair out of her face. It was then that John noticed the wedding ring on her finger. She wasn't his Impossible Girl even though for a moment John had almost hoped she was.

He watched as the woman excused herself and continued her stride along the corridor and John sighed. He wanted to know who the Impossible Girl was and he wanted to meet her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Clara dropped her bag and coat on the rack next to the door with a heavy sigh and stomped into her kitchen, her feet feeling heavy and tired after a long day at the office. Now all she really needed a glass of wine and her cat purring loudly next to her.

Clara rattled he box with the cat food and poured some of it into the bowl and instantly the little fur ball came running into the room. Sammy meowed sleepily and bumped his head against her leg before he started to devour his dinner. Clara poured herself a large glass of wine and unwrapped the chips she had bought on the way home before she made her way into the living room and dropped down on the couch.

She couldn't say why John Smith's insults bothered her so much, but that man really knew how to push her buttons. His mere presence seemed a nuisance to her and even though she was dearly hoping for it, she knew that he wouldn't give up trying to get his novel published. Clara took a sip from her wine and leaned back to open her laptop. It took a moment, but when she opened the most recent e-mail from the Doctor, a smile finally appeared on her face again. She immediately bent forward to write her reply that seemed long overdue.

 _Hello Doctor,_

 _yep, all toes still there. I just counted to be sure and Sammy is more interested in the cat food and maybe the fish I keep in my fridge. I don't think he's into human. Thank God!_

 _You put something in your new story especially for me? Now you've certainly gained my attention. What could it possibly be? Please, give me a hint or a few teaser lines. I've had a really bad day at the office, dealing with idiots, and I could use some cheering up._

 _The Impossible Girl_

When Clara hit the send button, Sammy jumped up to join her on the sofa and she smiled down at her furry friend.

"You're begging for chips, aren't you?" she asked and stuffed one of them into her mouth. The cat simply rubbed his head against her knee in response. Clara sighed. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of Danny's death. You haven't met him but you would have liked him."

She emptied her wine glass and glanced at her e-mails, only to realize that the Doctor hadn't responded yet. Of course not. He would have better things to do than to sit at his computer on a Friday night. Clara should have better things to do, but the Doctor's messages were one of the main reasons she got out of bed in the morning.

"It's been three years, Sammy. I'm ready for something new. I don't want to end up as a crazy cat lady," she sighed, "Not that you're a bad thing, no, you're cute and I love you, but I miss having a man around. I wish I could meet the Doctor."

The cat didn't respond, so Clara sighed and refilled her glass.

"I don't actually know that much about him, but he's so nice in his e-mails and he always knows what to say. Well, he's widowed, so I know he's probably a little older, which doesn't actually bother me. Unless he's like 80 or something. And his stories-," Clara groaned out loud at the though of it. The Doctor simply knew how to write an erotic scene and if he was as good at doing it as he was at writing about it, Clara would do almost anything for a night with him. Three years had passed and she missed the feeling of a man. In her frustration she downed her second drink, hoping it would drown out the nagging feeling, but it didn't. But she couldn't just ask her anonymous client out on a date.

Then suddenly there was a sound coming from her laptop and when Clara glanced up, her heart skipped a little beat. It was a new e-mail from the Doctor.

 _Good evening, my Impossible Girl,_

 _dealing with idiots? Trust me, I know all about that. Had a not so nice encounter with a pudding brain today as well, so I know how you must be feeling. Don't you just wish you could punch people sometimes and get away with it?_

 _How are you feeling, apart from having had a bad day? If I remember correctly there is a not so nice anniversary coming._

 _If you really want a few teaser lines, you need to give me a few moments to turn my notes into something passable._

 _The Doctor._

Clara sighed and sipped her drink. The Doctor really was the perfect man. He was considerate and he seemed to be paying a lot of attention to everything she told him, even if it had been a year ago. And his writing also made him seem damn sexy. Oh, why did he have to use a pseudonym? Why did the publishing company have to have these rules?

When she read the e-mail once again, Clara couldn't help but notice the wording. _My_ Impossible Girl. How she would love to be his right now. Maybe he also liked her a bit? No, that was a silly thought. The Doctor didn't even know her or what she looked like. He was probably just being nice, so Clara decided to be nice in return. And maybe flirt just to a little to see how he would respond.

 _Oh Doctor, my Doctor,_

 _please grant me some of your uplifting words on this grim day ;)_

 _Other than still being slightly annoyed about my day at the office, I'm fine, really. And I think it's very sweet that you remember the anniversary, but there's no need to worry. I have company now in the form of my furry friend and I have your e-mails to look forward to, so there is hardly a reason to complain._

 _What about you? Is there any way I could help make your day a little better?_

 _Your Impossible Girl._

Clara leaned back, enjoying her wine, stroking her cat's fur and knowing that the Doctor wouldn't take long to reply. She just knew it and the thought about his response excited her immensely. A few minutes later a new message popped up.

 _If my Impossible Girl is feeling better, then that makes me feel better as well. Also, I never mind hearing you praise my writing, but that's another matter._

 _I've attached the word file. Hope you like the location I picked especially for you ;)_

 _The Doctor_

Clara immediately went on to open the attached word file and noticed that it really wasn't a very long text. Nevertheless she was glad for the distraction and started to read it.

She instantly realized what the Doctor had meant when he had said the location had been chosen for her because she vaguely remembered telling him that she would love to read about a scene in a tub. Clara gulped down her wine and felt the heat rise into her cheeks as she read the teaser and a _teaser_ it was. She had to shift in her seat to suppress the uncomfortable, annoying itch between her legs that the Doctor's writing was causing her once more. If he was here right now, she'd draw them a bath and have him do the exact things to her that she was reading about right now. Or invite him to her bedroom. Or just let him take her on the couch. It didn't matter.

When she had finished reading, Clara instantly started writing a reply. He liked it when she praised his work? Well, he deserved praise for this.

Once she had finished the first sentence, however, Clara threw a glance at her cat.

"I think I might be about to write something cheeky," she confessed, "Should I?"

Sammy simply purred in response.

"Okay, let's do this," she determined, finished her wine and set the glass down to type.

 _Doctor, that was amazing and at the asme time amazingly frustrating. I know i requested a tub scemne, but this really exceeded my expectations because it's definitely a biggehr turn on than I had imagined. You have no ideda what your writing does to me and what I would give uto be ein her place right now and have you whisper those things in my ear. Congratulations once more, wyou made me blush and turned on. I know I will have very sweet and naughty dreams about you tonight._

 _Sleep well,_

 _Your Impossible Girl._

Clara sent the e-mail before she could change her mind about it and closed her laptop, grinning broadly at the cat next to her while her heart was beating just a little faster than usual. She couldn't believe she had actually been brave enough to send this message.

"Told you it'd be cheeky," she said and rose from her seat, only to realize that she was a little unsteady on her feet. The wine must have gone to her head a little more than she would have thought.

Clara simply shrugged it off as she made her way towards her bedroom. It didn't matter. Today was Friday and tomorrow morning she could sleep off any possible headache for as long as she liked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _Doctor, that was amazing and at the asme time amazingly frustrating. I know i requested a tub scemne, but this really exceeded my expectations because it's definitely a biggehr turn on than I had imagined. You have no ideda what your writing does to me and what I would give uto be ein her place right now and have you whisper those things in my ear. Congratulations once more, wyou made me blush and turned on. I know I will have very sweet and naughty dreams about you tonight._

 _Sleep well,_

 _Your Impossible Girl._

John stared at the words in front of him and for a moment he was too baffled to even make sense of them. The Impossible Girl had flirted with him before, but never as obviously and blatantly as this and even though his heart instantly skipped a beat and he knew he should be happy and ecstatic about it, something about it just didn't feel entirely right. John wanted to enjoy the moment, to revel in the knowledge that she liked him as much as he liked her, but he just couldn't. It was the mistakes that made him wary. That wasn't like his Impossible Girl to just carelessly type an e-mail without checking the spelling afterwards. No, John knew what this was. The Impossible Girl was alone on a Friday night and she had been drinking. That was the only possible explanation for the mistakes and also the content of her e-mail.

A strange kind of sadness came over John once he had realized the truth and not just because his initial hope of her feeling the same about him as he felt for her was slowly fading away. His Impossible Girl was alone, just as he was, and he would love nothing better than to be in her company right now. He was completely aware of how silly it was and yet he just couldn't stop thinking about her. She was a young woman and she would soon find a new man to make her happy, and then another, until she would find the one to settle down with. John, however, was in his 50s and he had done all of that already. He had loved, settled down and lost. There was just no way she could truly be interested in him and yet he knew he still wanted to meet her. Because if he didn't, his hopes would never truly go away.

John sighed audibly and leaned forward to type a reply.

 _My dear Impossible Girl,_

 _are you sure that everything is okay? Forgive me for being honest, but you don't really sound like yourself. I want you to know that it's absolutely okay if you are not fine and that you can tell me anything. After all, we're both anonymous and you know I won't judge you._

 _That being said, I really appreciate your praise as well as our little exchange and I look forward to your e-mails every single day. Please, take care of yourself and stay exactly the way you are._

 _Love,_

 _The Doctor._

For a brief moment John considered to write how much he would love to meet her, but then he thought better of it. They were both anonymous for a reason and the Impossible Girl would think that he was overstepping his boundaries. So instead John sent the e-mail and closed his laptop to go to bed, knowing that he would lie awake for a while longer, just thinking about her. He was utterly lost.

* * *

A cold, wet nose was touching her face, sniffing at her, and Clara opened her eyes when Sammy started meowing. With a sigh she reached for the protesting cat and dragged him away from her face.

"You're a mean bastard sometimes, you know?" she growled, "You sleep all day and wake me in the early morning. That's really unfair."

Sammy meowed in response and with another sigh Clara pushed herself up in bed, only now noticing the faint headache in her temples. Right, the wine. But that was nothing a shower and a large cup of coffee couldn't fix.

Yawning and rubbing her eyes, Clara followed her cat into the kitchen to feed him when she passed her living room and the laptop on her couch table caught her attention. She stopped abruptly, unable to take another step. The laptop. The e-mail.

"Fuck," Clara muttered. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Sammy beg for food, but that didn't matter right now.

Clara had messed up last night. Big time. The heat rose into her cheeks when the memories of that last e-mail she had sent came back to her and all of a sudden she felt a little dizzy. Oh no, the things she had written him.

A part of her wanted to go and check if the Doctor had already replied and another part just wanted to burn her laptop and never think about it again. She needed to message him and tell him that she hadn't meant any of it. He was a business contact and even though their relationship had become more and more personal, last night Clara had definitely overstepped the boundaries.

Sammy came back, meowing loudly, and Clara bent down to pick up her cat.

"What have I done?" she asked him, "Why didn't you stop me? Be a good cat and knock my glass over the keyboard or something? Ugh, the Doctor is going to think I'm pathetic."

Again the cat meowed before he started purring against her chest and for now Clara decided to ignore what had happened last night and instead stick to the plans she had made for today.

She fed Sammy, took a long shower and munched her cereal while she watched her cat's thorough cleaning ritual. Afterwards Clara made her way to the florist and bought a nice arrangement that she left on Danny's grave, only to realize that she hadn't been the first to visit his burial site today. There was a large bouquet already withering slightly and Clara guessed that his colleagues had left it there the day before.

Clara took a moment, trying to invoke some of her memories with Danny, but nothing seemed to come to her mind. She still thought about him from time to time. At home. At the cinema. When she was out with friends. But his grave wasn't the place her mind connected with Danny, she wasn't even sure there was even a point in putting flowers here. Wherever Danny's spirit had gone, that place wasn't here.

On her way back home Clara decided to make a little detour and shortly after rang the doorbell on Amy's house. It was her husband Rory who answered the door.

"Hey Clara, come on in," he greeted her cheerfully and held the door open for her.

Clara found her friend in the kitchen, just drying the last of the dishes.

"You look like hell," Amy commented, "Tea?"

"Tea would be great," she replied and sank down on the kitchen chair, sighing heavily, "Amy, I messed up last night."

Her friend raised her eyebrows as she shoved a hot, steaming mug in her direction and took a seat next to her.

"I may have sent a drunkish e-mail to the Doctor," Clara admitted, "And confessed that I'd like to. . . you know."

Even now she felt too embarrassed to actually say it out loud. Amy, however, was as blunt as always.

"Sleep with him?" she asked.

"Sort of," she confessed sheepishly.

Her friend giggled in response, which wasn't exactly the kind of support Clara had hoped for. "What exactly did you write him?"

Clara groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Please, don't make me repeat it. It's embarrassing as it is."

"Well, has he replied?" Amy enquired.

"I don't know," Clara removed the hands from her face to look at her friend, "I'm too scared to check."

"Give me your phone," her friend prompted her and held out her hand. Clara simply raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I'm gonna see if he has responded and if it's bad, I'll soften the blow."

With a sigh Clara reached into her bag and pulled her phone. She opened the app and handed it over to Amy without even glancing at the unanswered e-mails she had received.

Amy took the device from her and started to read while Clara watched every expression that crossed over her friend's face.

"It's bad, isn't it? It's really bad. Oh God, tell me how bad it is."

Suddenly a smile appeared on Amy's face. "It's not bad. It's quite cute actually, though it may not be exactly what you're hoping for."

"Right now I'm only hoping that he doesn't request another publisher," Clara spat back, "Please, tell me what it says!"

Amy cleared her throat and started reading out loud. "My dear Impossible Girl, are you sure that everything is okay? Forgive me for being honest, but you don't really sound like yourself. I want you to know that it's absolutely okay if you are not fine and that you can tell me anything. After all, we're both anonymous and you know I won't judge you. That being said, I really appreciate your praise as well as our little exchange and I look forward to your e-mails every single day. Please, take care of yourself and stay exactly the way you are. _Love_ , The Doctor," she finished and continued to smile at the phone, "Oh, he sounds really nice. And worried."

"Yeah," Clara scoffed, "Worried that I'm turning into a lunatic."

Her friend laughed at her in reply. "I don't think he would have signed it with _love_ if he thinks you're a loon. He likes you."

Still Clara only shook her head. He couldn't like her, not after last night's disaster.

"Clara, seriously," Amy said sternly, "This e-mail sounds way too proper for what you've written him. Either he's completely disgusted by the idea, in which case he would have probably left out the love bit, or he has similar feelings and he's too shy to admit that. Ask him out!"

"I can't," she protested.

"Ask. Him. Out." Amy held the phone in her direction and Clara reluctantly took it back. Maybe she should. Maybe she really should.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for the reviews :)_

 **Chapter 5**

Even though John should have been busy rewriting the beginning of his science fiction novel, he couldn't help but glance at his e-mails every couple of minutes. It was late afternoon by now and the Impossible Girl still hadn't replied to his message from last night. It wasn't unusual for either of them to take a while to write back, especially during the weekends, but after last night John just couldn't help but worry. What if something was wrong? What if she was really unwell or crying her eyes out over the anniversary of her boyfriend's death? What if something had happened to her?

John's imagination came up with endless scenarios and he just couldn't shut them up and concentrate on his writing when finally the familiar sound of a new e-mail rang through his speakers. John instantly opened it.

 _Doctor,_

 _I am terribly sorry about what I wrote you last night. I can't begin to tell you how embarrassed I am and the only reason it took me so long to get back to you is that I was busy banging my head against the wall because of my own stupidity. Obviously I loved the short teaser that you sent me and obviously I had a bit more wine than was good for me, otherwise I would have never sent you that utterly inappropriate e-mail. Please, erase it from your memory so I'll never have to think about it again._

 _I love your writing and I love the e-mails we exchange every day and I would hate for our relationship to be ruined by that stupid message. Please, tell me that we're good because I don't think I could bear the thought of not talking to you._

 _Your Impossible Girl._

John smiled to himself when he read those lines, not just because his Impossible Girl seemed to be well, but also because of the very last sentence she had written him. Even though she had practically taken back everything she had said to him the night before, he now knew for sure. He was more than just a simple business contact to her. His Impossible Girl liked him. Maybe not in the same way he liked her, but it was a start. That was a good thing.

Instantly John bent over his keyboard to reply.

 _My Impossible Girl,_

 _I'm so glad that you've finally replied because I had started to worry about you after last night. You wouldn't believe the things that went through my mind before I saw your message._

 _As for last night, consider that e-mail erased. E-mail? What e-mail? I can't remember anything. I think Harry Potter just visited me and used a memory spell on my head. Believe me, your e-mails mean too much to me. I would never stop replying because of something silly like that, not when they brighten up my day so much. Honestly, what would I do without those lovely messages from my Impossible Girl every single day?_

 _How are you feeling today? I sincerely hope you're treating yourself with a nice cup of tea and some biscuits to cure any eventual hangover?_

 _Your Doctor._

Happy with the message, John sent his e-mail and reopened the word document containing his novel. Now that he knew his Impossible Girl was okay he could finally concentrate on getting some work done.

* * *

Clara smiled at the latest message from him, feeling utterly relieved that the Doctor wasn't mad at her and also feeling a surge of happiness at the knowledge that he seemed to feel the same about her as she felt about him. Maybe she should ask him out? Just for a cup of coffee? There was no harm in that, was there? It was just coffee. Then again, Clara hardly knew anything about him at all. Maybe she should find out a little more about the Doctor before actually suggesting a meeting.

 _My Doctor,_

 _you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that, or to read you write that more like it. I'm glad to see that we seem to be on the same page about these e-mails because I've been viewing you as a sort of friend for a while now and I would hate to lose that._

 _And you're absolutely right. Today I'm pampering myself with a good book and a nice cup of tea. I also went to see a friend earlier and stopped by my late boyfriend's grave. It was strange. A year ago I was still sort of a mess about him, but right now I think the only thing I feel sad about is not having a partner in my life. Which probably explains last night's message. God, I must sound really pathetic to you right now._

 _What about you, Doctor? Is there a special someone in your life?_

 _Your Impossible Girl._

Clara sent the message and leaned back in her seat, suddenly becoming increasingly aware that Sammy was staring at her.

"What?" Clara asked him, "I can hardly ask him out if he's got a girlfriend."

Still her cat stared at her.

"Stop judging me with your looks," she told Sammy and turned back towards her laptop. A few moments later a new message appeared.

 _My dear Impossible Girl,_

 _you could never seem pathetic to me. I think you are an extraordinary, smart and funny young woman. You've lost the man you loved and you have every right to feel sad about it, but trust me, your loneliness won't last forever. A woman like you could turn the head of any man that she wanted._

 _As for me, I haven't found anyone willing to put up with a middle aged author who likes loud music, doesn't shave his beard and wears plaid trousers if he doesn't have to leave the house._

 _The Doctor._

Clara smiled at the mental imagine of it. She had always liked a bearded man and even though the plaid trousers sounded like he was wearing a pyjama all day, Clara doubted that it could be so bad.

 _Dear Doctor,_

 _how would you know I could turn any man's head? You have no idea what I look like. For all you know I could weigh a ton, have a moustache, a peg leg and a lazy eye._

 _And I wouldn't care about the loud music as long as it's good music. Also the beard bit doesn't really sound too bad in my ears. Not so sure about the plaid trousers, however. . ._

 _Your Impossible Girl._

Clara didn't have to wait long for her reply, but it was a short one.

 _My Impossible Girl,_

 _of course you could look like a hag, but for some reason I sincerely doubt that ;)_

 _Your Doctor._

It was now or never and Clara was fully aware of it, so she decided to just be brave even though her hands were trembling just a little as she typed the following words.

 _My Doctor,_

 _would you like to find out what I look like? I know a small place that makes really good coffee._

 _Your Impossible Girl._

Clara leaned back with a smile and waited.

And waited and waited. She had been so confident that she would get a positive reply, but nothing happened on the other end. Had she been so mistaken? Did he really not want to meet her at all?

An hour passed and at first she thought he might have logged out to do something else but as time went on and there was still no reply from the Doctor, her heart began to sink. She could have lived with the rejection, but to hear nothing at all from him was pure agony.

When midnight came around Clara checked her e-mails one last time, but apart from a few spam mails there was nothing there at all. If she hadn't managed to ruin her relationship with the Doctor the night before, she sure as hell had done it now.

With a defeated sigh Clara leaned over her keyboard once more and typed out another message.

 _Doctor,_

 _I'm sorry. I realize that we're both anonymous and that you want it to stay that way. Please, forget I ever asked._

 _Your Impossible Girl._


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you for the reviews :)_

 **Chapter 6**

John read the words and could hardly believe that what he saw was real. His Impossible Girl was suggesting to meet and right now he felt like the luckiest man alive. He was going to meet her at last and John instantly bent forward to reply.

 _My dear Impossible Girl,_

 _I would like nothing more than to finally meet you in person. In fact, I have been wanting to suggest it for a while now but I wasn't sure how you would react. Just name a place and time and I will be there. I'm so happy to finally-_

Suddenly the whole place was plunged into darkness and the screen in front of his eyes went black. For a moment the entire world seemed to have fallen silent.

"No," he almost shouted, "No! No! No! Not now!"

John rose from his seat and made his way towards the window, cursing loudly as he stubbed his toe on the couch table, and once he had reached the living room window, John realized that the entire quarter was dark.

"Damn power cut," he complained, hissing while his toe still throbbed with pain. It really couldn't have come at a worse time. If only the power had stayed on for two more minutes, then he could have replied to his Impossible Girl and tell her that he would love to meet her. Now she was probably sitting at home in front of her laptop, waiting in vain for a reply.

With no other idea what he could do, John whipped out his phone and called the only number he could think of, hoping that she was at home.

"Jenny, I need a favour," he blurted out immediately once she answered the phone, "I need to use your laptop. It's very important and the power just went out at my place."

Jenny laughed at the other end of the line. "Hello to you, too, Dad," his daughter chuckled, "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we don't have any power either."

"Damn!"

"What's so important? I'm sure the power will come back in a bit."

John sighed. "I just need to send an e-mail to my publisher. I was in the middle of writing it when the laptop just switched off. Stupid thing!"

Still his daughter seemed more amused than concerned. "You do realize that this entire problem wouldn't even exist if you just bought yourself a smartphone?"

John growled in reply. Jenny had been suggesting that to him for ages and right now he wished he had listened to his daughter.

"Dad, please, I've got the day off on Monday. Let me help you buy a phone that has not been around when the Ancients built the pyramids."

"I hate it when you're right," he mumbled and then gave a defeated sigh, "Fine."

"I love you, too, Dad," Jenny giggled, "See you on Monday."

"What do I do about the e-mail now?" John asked before his daughter could hang up.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to wait. Sorry," she apologized, "I'm sure the power will be back in a while. They can't leave half of London without electricity."

"Right," he sighed, "I'll see you on Monday."

John hung up and looked back inside his dark flat where his laptop was sitting lifelessly on his desk. Maybe his Impossible Girl was without power right now as well, but if not, she might think that he didn't want to see her and that was the last thing he wanted her to assume. Ten minutes ago he had been the happiest man on Earth and now it seemed as if the universe was conspiring against him, trying to prevent him from ever meeting the Impossible Girl in person.

But right now all he could do about that was wait.

* * *

Clara poured some of the boiling water into her mug and glanced at her phone on the kitchen table, wondering whether she should check for any new e-mails or not. If the Doctor wanted to meet her, he would have replied last night and not waited until morning to do so. And maybe he hadn't replied at all and was still searching his brain for a polite way to turn down her suggestion.

"Why did I have to develop a crush on my anonymous writer?" Clara asked her cat, who was busy licking his paw, "Why couldn't I have met some regular, nice writer at the office?"

She sighed and then she remembered why.

"Okay, yes, writers are usually pricks like that Smith guy. It's no wonder I developed such an attitude for the office. I probably come across as a stupid bitch, just like he said, but seriously? You just start to get bitchy after the 20th guy walks into your office in a nice suit and neat hair and thinks he's the one author the entire world has been waiting for. They all think they're better than everyone else, they all think they're the best, it's a pain in the arse," she complained loudly, "But the Doctor is different and he seems to actually care about me as a person, not just as his way of getting his novels published. I like his humour and he doesn't have to pretend to be a good writer because he is. Ah, sod it!"

Clara cursed and reached for her phone, closing one of the news announcement that told her about a power outage in the city. Ranting to her cat about it wouldn't change a thing and maybe, just maybe the Doctor had replied after all. When Clara spotted the message, sent at 4:15 in the morning, her hands were trembling a little as she clicked to open it.

 _My dear Impossible Girl,_

 _I am so terribly sorry that I couldn't reply to you on the spot. Believe me, I wanted to, but before I could send you my response the power went out and it only just came back on now. I'm dead tired and my eyes are falling shut as I type these words but I need you to know that I would love nothing more than to meet you in person. I have wanted to suggest that for a while now, but I wasn't sure what you would think. Name a time and place and I will be there, eager to finally talk to you face to face._

 _Please, don't take my lack of e-mails as a sign that I don't want to meet you. That was just the universe playing one of its very cruel jokes._

 _Your Doctor._

Clara's heart skipped a beat when she read his words and then decided not to contain her joy and jump up in the middle of her kitchen, squealing happily and probably scaring her cat.

"I'm gonna meet him, Sammy," she told her cat excitedly, grinning from ear to ear, "I'm gonna meet the Doctor. Oh God, what am I gonna wear? Yes, yes, I know, that's silly and probably doesn't matter at all. It's just coffee. Just coffee."

Still Clara couldn't stop smiling when she went on to reply.

 _My dear Doctor,_

 _I am so glad to read your reply because for a moment I thought I had scared you off. The power cut really came at an inconvenient time, probably because the universe wanted to leave me hanging for a night. Would Friday be okay for you? I get off work at 3._

 _Love,_

 _Your Impossible Girl._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you for the reviews :) Are you excited for the impending meeting?_

 **Chapter 7**

"There are fingerprints all over this thing already," John complained and dropped his new phone back on the table.

Jenny giggled into her coffee cup. They had stopped by a little café on their way back from the electronics shop and in his frustration John took a large bite off his muffin, glaring at the suspicion new device in his possession.

"I'll give you one week and you don't wanna be without it. Trust me," his daughter tried to reassure him and there was one argument she had used that even he couldn't just push aside. He wanted to be a science fiction author. He should at least try to keep up with today's technical advances. And above all he would know immediately when his Impossible Girl had replied to one of his e-mails. John had to suppress a smile at the thought of it. On Friday he would go out with her and he had decided to take her suggestion a little further by proposing dinner instead of coffee. She had agreed.

"So, did you get to send that very urgent e-mail to your publisher during the weekend?" Jenny asked and something about the way she looked at him made John wary.

"Yes. Yes, I did. Why are you asking?"

His daughter shrugged, but the odd smile remained on her face. "I don't know. Wouldn't have thought it was such a demanding job where you have to be in contact with your clients during the weekend as well. What could possibly be so urgent that it can't wait until Monday?"

John cleared his throat. "Oh, you know. This and. . . that."

Jenny laughed in reply.

"Alright, maybe it wasn't entirely business related," he admitted after a moment, "She asked to meet me for a coffee."

"And what did you say?" Jenny enquired curiously.

Again he cleared his throat and looked down at his half eaten muffin. "I suggested dinner instead. And she accepted."

"That's great," his daughter said instantly, giving him a little nudge to make him look up, "I'm happy for you."

"Really?" he asked. John hadn't been quite so sure what his daughter might think about it. "She is quite a bit younger."

"Younger than me?"

"No," John shook his head, "Not younger than you. That would be weird. So you're okay with that?"

His daughter smiled in response. "More than that. It's been seven years since Mum. I don't want you to be lonely. Is she pretty at least, your publisher?"

John chuckled. "I don't actually know. So far we've only exchanged e-mails. But she's funny and smart and I like her."

"Bring her flowers," Jenny determined.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Do people still do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but if you like her you should give your best. Don't wear the plaid trousers."

John glared at his daughter. "I am out of practice, but I'm not stupid."

Jenny simply giggled and looked down at him, reminding him of just what he was wearing and John growled back at her. He liked the plaid trousers. They were comfortable.

"I love you, Dad," Jenny said, smiling.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 _Dinner._ They would be going out for dinner and that could mean only one thing: Clara needed a new dress. Okay, maybe she didn't _need_ it, but she certainly wanted to go shopping.

After work Clara made her way into the nearest shopping area to find something nice to wear on Friday and walked into the first shop she saw. It had a nice selection of dresses, but not quite the style she was looking for. So Clara went into the next one where she spotted a dress that looked quite lovely.

"Excuse me," Clara said to the shop assistant, who was standing behind the counter and browsing through a magazine, "Do you still have this in other sizes?"

The woman looked up, appearing utterly bored. "If we had, we would have put them there," she remarked and lowered her head once more to continue her reading.

"Charming," Clara muttered under her breath and headed towards the exit, determined not to buy something from a shop that clearly wasn't very keen on actually selling their clothes.

She was still a little annoyed by the shop assistant's reaction when she stepped outside, so for a moment Clara forgot to look up and bumped straight into someone on the street.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled quickly and looked up, only to see the one person she hadn't expected to see, the last person she actually wanted to see. John Smith.

It seemed to take him a moment, but soon his features turned into a frown. "You," he growled, "Watch where you're going."

"Hey, I apologized and-" Clara broke off once she got a good look at him and the sight in front of her was a hilarious one to behold. John Smith was wearing what looked like pyjamas bottoms and a hoodie that she thought he had stolen from his teenage son. She couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh my God, what are you wearing? You look like a twelve-year-old."

John Smith sneered at her in response, an almost pained expression on his face. "Hilarious."

Still Clara couldn't help but giggle. "Tell me you're wearing a Star Trek shirt underneath that hoodie."

Now John Smith straightened his shoulders, making himself taller when he was already towering over her. Clara looked up, determined that none of that would make even the faintest impression on her. "Even if I did, you wouldn't know. You don't know a thing about science fiction."

"I know something you don't," she threw back at him, "No one wants to read it. But hey, don't let me keep you from your shopping tour. I'm sure you're eager to find something other to wear than a pyjama."

He stopped and looked at her for a moment, obviously considering his next move. Clara felt a little stab of pride that she had shut him up so quickly.

"I'd rather be seen in public in my pyjama than be caught acting like a fucking bitch," he spat and made an attempt to move on, but Clara stepped in his way.

"What did you just call me?"

John Smith glared a her. "I called you a bitch. And you should probably have your hearing checked. There's a shop for hearing aids right over there."

This time Clara didn't stop him from walking away, but she also couldn't hold back from shouting after him. "And you're an untalented asshole!"

He didn't turn around, but Clara watched as he raised his hand and flipped her off before he vanished into the crowd. It had been a low blow, but Clara just hated this man with a passion that she couldn't even explain and she couldn't wait for the day he finally gave up writing.

With a sigh Clara turned around and decided to focus on something more pleasant, like finding a dress for her date on Friday. She smiled to herself when she walked into the next shop, knowing that John Smith didn't matter. One day he would give up and then he would be out of her life forever.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for the reviews! So, excited for that meeting?_

 **Chapter 8**

John was early and for a moment he regretted not bringing flowers like his daughter had suggested to him. Maybe his Impossible Girl would have liked that. But this was their first meeting and he didn't want to overdo it.

Nervously he began to fiddle with the napkin in front of him, taking apart the carefully folded Origami swan and failing to put it back together. Would the Impossible Girl think him too old? They hadn't exchanged any more personal information, but maybe he should have mentioned his age? What if she saw him and laughed?

No, she wouldn't because John had made an effort tonight. He was wearing a suit, a good one, but not too fancy, he had dusted off his shoes, combed his hair and shaved the stubble off his chin. He was looking good tonight and he was certainly nothing to laugh at.

But still. . . would the age gap bother her? It wasn't as if John had intentionally picked a younger woman. He had liked her long before he had known how old she was. Would it maybe bother him? The Impossible Girl seemed quite mature in her e-mails, but what if she wasn't in real life?

"What are _you_ doing here?"

John looked up and for a moment he couldn't believe what he saw. In front of him stood no other than the most annoying woman on the entire planet: Clara Oswald.

She was obviously dressed for a night out and if it had been any other woman, John would have said she looked perfectly lovely, but not to her. She scowled at him, her arms akimbo.

"Are you following me?" she demanded to know.

At first John frowned, then he scoffed at her. "Certainly not. I have better things to do with my time. I have a date. So, if you were so nice as to move along," he said and made a waving gesture with his hand.

Clara Oswald giggled. "Looks more like your date stood you up."

"And yours is late. Or are you dining alone like the sad woman you are?"

She snorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm certainly not dining alone. I have a date as well and he should show up any minute."

"Really?" John laughed, "Who's the poor sod? I need to give him my sincerest condolences."

However when John looked up at her, and _properly_ looked at her, he started to get a strange, almost nasty feeling inside his stomach. Clara Oswald was here on a date. Clara Oswald was around 30 years old. Clara Oswald worked at the publishing company.

Her face changed all of a sudden as the realisation struck her as well and the smug expression instantly disappeared.

"The Impossible Girl," he realized.

Clara shook her head. "No, you can't be the Doctor. There's no way."

He gave a light shrug and for a moment Clara seemed so baffled that she took a seat at his table. For a long moment neither of them said anything, until a waiter appeared, asking for their order.

"Oh, no, thanks," Clara said instantly, "I'm not staying."

The waiter turned towards John. "I'll have a Scotch."

"Fine," Clara sighed, "I'll have one, too. But it's on him."

Again both of them fell silent when the waiter left and John had no idea what to do now. Maybe he had misjudged Clara Oswald and she was nice after all? He had liked her in her e-mails. However, Clara seemed much too hostile to even consider going through with the date.

"Okay, this is really awkward," she said after a moment.

"You can say that again," John scoffed and then the waiter returned with her drinks. They both declined ordering food because obviously Clara had no intention to stay and he wasn't sure about that either right now. It could have been any woman working at the publishing company, but it had to be Clara Oswald. The universe really hated him.

"Well, obviously neither one of us is so keen on that date anymore," Clara concluded, "I don't think we should even consider this a date."

"It was meant as a date and you know it," John spat back at her.

"Okay, fine, it was meant as a date," she said angrily, "I didn't know it would be you, otherwise-"

She broke off, lowering her gaze, and for a moment Clara looked terribly embarrassed.

John raised an eyebrow. "Otherwise you would have never told me that my writing was good?"

"It's alright," she replied, still not looking at him, and finally John realized what it was that she was so embarrassed about. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Funny, cause just last week you thought it was so good that you wanted me to fuck you in the bathtub and whisper into your ear how good you feel," he retorted.

Clara's gaze instantly shot up, glaring at him, before her eyes wandered around the room. "Do you realize that we're in public?" she hissed at him.

"Yes," John said, shrugging, "Why? Am I embarrassing you?"

"You're shouting obscenities across the restaurant, so, yeah, you're embarrassing me."

He laughed. "I wasn't shouting. Do you know what shouting sounds like?"

"Don't you dare!" Clara threatened him.

"I knew you were boring and frigid the moment I stepped into your office."

"I am not frigid!" she said, raising her voice, and instantly glanced around the room once more, "How could I have known it was _you_?"

He snorted. "Why? Are you surprised I'm not asshole when you're not being a bitch?"

"At least I'm not spending my time masturbating to my own novels and hitting on women half my age!"

"No, you're just masturbating over someone else's novels. Much better," John couldn't help but laugh. They were ridiculous. Both of them. They had liked each other and now they just couldn't seem to stop bickering, but John would be damned if he gave in first.

Suddenly Clara rose to her feet and reached for her purse. "You know what? I didn't come here to trade insults. I've got better things to do," she spat and spun around on her heels while John watched her leave.

It was only when she was already out of the door and he had finished his Scotch that John realized this was more than a blind date gone wrong. Now that she knew who he was, her e-mails would stop. He had lost more than just the chance of finding love again. Tonight he had lost a friend and all of a sudden he regretted ever agreeing to meet her.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you for the reviews, guys! How could it possibly continue with our two favourite idiots?_

 **Chapter 9**

Clara sipped her morning coffee, staring at the laptop screen in front of her. The reality of what had happened hadn't really hit her last night, but this morning, when she had woken up, she had started to feel this profound sadness over losing someone she had really, really liked.

But John Smith was an asshole and last night had been proof of that once again. For a moment she even had been tempted to give him a chance, but he had ruined it and now here she was, still sort of hoping to receive another e-mail from him. Anything. She would even take an insult rather than silence, but Clara wasn't going to be the one to crawl up to him. No, he had to be the one to write her an e-mail first.

Clara slammed her laptop shut and took another sip from her coffee mug, regretting the decision to ever have met with him.

* * *

John deleted the draft of the e-mail he had written and closed the lid of his laptop. Why should he be the one to message first? Just because he missed talking to her? No. Clara had started this and if she was interested in continuing their e-mails, she had to go first.

But the truth was that he missed his Impossible Girl. He missed her terribly.

Suddenly his phone vibrated next to him and John picked it up, hopeful that it might be an e-mail from her, but soon the disappointment came over him when he saw that it was just a reminder for the upcoming party at the publishing company in a week.

Originally he hadn't wanted to attend at all. John Smith was an unpublished author and it was the Doctor they had invited. Nobody would know him unless he gave away is pseudonym. But now he wasn't so sure about not going anymore. Clara would probably be there and she would likely throw a fit if she saw him, but anything was better than no contact at all.

Now all he needed to do was kill some time for another week, so John opened his laptop again and finally set out to finish that story his Impossible Girl had been asking about.

* * *

Clara was in the middle of reading a rather interesting beginning of a book when suddenly there was a knock on her office door. She frowned and just to be sure she checked her calendar, but there was no appointment marked down for this time of the day.

"Come in," she said carefully and the door opened.

She had almost let out a groan when John Smith stepped inside, but today he didn't wear one of those smug expressions on his face as he approached her with a few sheets of paper and a flash drive.

"What do you want?" Clara asked. The tone in her voice wasn't annoyed, it wasn't angry. She genuinely just wanted to know why he had come here after everything that had happened on Friday.

"I finished the short story for my new book," he explained.

"You could have mailed it to me. You didn't have to come all the way here," Clara argued and for a moment she thought he had come here just to see her.

Which absolutely didn't matter because they hated each other.

"I was in the area," John shrugged, "I also wanted to give you this. I re-wrote the beginning of my science fiction novel and-"

Clara rolled her eyes. "I told you that no one wants to read science fiction anymore."

"No, _you_ don't wanna read it," John corrected her and maybe he was right. She just wasn't into that kind of literature and she couldn't judge whether a science fiction novel was good or not because she hadn't actually read any she could compare it with. Clara really was the wrong person to ask and she would rather not publish this book than publish it and have it fail because she had misjudged the quality.

"Come on," John went on, "You've read my other stuff. You've liked it. Give it a chance."

"Why are you so dead set on publishing this novel?" she groaned in response, "You're great at the other stuff. Why give it up to pursue. . . _that_?" She pointed at the pages in his hands.

"Because I've been working on it for years, because I know it's good, because I want to be taken seriously as an author and I never will be while I write the filth I keep sending you," he argued.

Clara looked at him for a long moment. John Smith was annoying, he was rude, he was persistent, he was. . .

"Fine, I'll read it," she spat at him, "But only if you fuck off now and let me do my job."

A large grin spread across his entire face and for a moment Clara regretted agreeing to this. She didn't want to please him, he was an arse. But agreeing to read his novel was the only way she could think of to get him to stop bothering her. Did she want him to stop? Of course she did.

John Smith stepped forward and placed the pages and flash drive neatly on her desk, but the smile remained on his face even afterwards.

"You know, this is the first time you've been almost nice to me," he chuckled.

"Oh, shut up," Clara growled, "And get the fuck out of my office."

Still he smiled as he started to approach the door. "I'll get you to publish my novel one day, Impossible Girl."

"Get out!" she shouted and reached for the flash drive to throw at him, but the door had already closed behind John and it merely bounced off the wall.

Clara rose from her chair to pick it up and plugged it into her computer. It was probably going to be boring. She was almost certain of it. But when she began to read, Clara couldn't help but admit that his style was just as good as it was in the other novels he had written. He just had a way with words that even she couldn't deny. As for the story, Clara soon found herself turning one digital page after the other, reading on and on until she glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of her screen and realized that it was way past her usual lunch time.

Okay, so she liked his science fiction novel, but that didn't mean she had to admit that in front of him any time soon.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you for the lovely reviews!_

 **Chapter 10**

John was sitting at the bar in the corner of the room, sipping his Scotch and looking over the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a really good time talking to each other, dancing, eating food from the buffet that, to be honest, looked really good, and he was stuck there because Clara Oswald hadn't noticed him yet and right now John wasn't sure if he wanted to be noticed at all. She looked lovely tonight with her hair slightly wavy and wearing that red dress. Almost too lovely. If she saw him, she would think that he had come here because of her, which would be entirely the truth.

A week had passed since their disastrous date and John missed his Impossible Girl, but ever since he had learned who she really was, he felt conflicted. He liked the Impossible Girl, but he didn't like Clara. How could this possibly end well?

With a sigh John finished his drink. Didn't matter. He was hungry and the way to the buffet led past Clara Oswald, who was talking to the redhead he had bumped into the other day. So what if Clara looked gorgeous tonight, so what if he still sort of fancied her for being the Impossible Girl, it wasn't as if that was ever going to happen now. He shouldn't care what she thought of him.

"You!"

When John heard her voice, he immediately knew that he was the one she was talking to and he turned around and gave her the falsest smile he could muster.

"Yes," he said, "Me. Not my nicer doppelganger, me."

"Why are you here?" she asked him, putting her arms akimbo. That slightly angry frown looked adorable on her face.

"I thought since you kicked me out of your office I could come here and stalk you."

The frown on her face deepened and John couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

"Relax, I was invited. I'm an author, remember? And there's free food, so-" He shrugged. "And the buffet is where I was headed, so if you'll excuse me. I'd like to take a break from my stalker duties and eat."

Clara made no further attempt to stop him, so John had no other choice but to leave, but the truth was: he had wanted her to stop him. Dammit! He still liked her.

* * *

"What was that?" Amy giggled once John had walked on to the buffet.

"That was the Doctor. John Smith," Clara growled as she watched him walk away. Why? Why did he have to be here tonight and why did he have to look so good in a suit? She had been so angry during their date that she had hardly paid any attention to it, but now that she knew who he was, she couldn't help but notice that he was quite good looking. He was an asshole, but a hot one. Not that she would ever admit that in front of him.

"So, you're gonna hook up with him?" her friend wanted to know.

Clara turned back around to face her and shot her a dark glance. "He's an arse!"

"Well, not in his e-mails," Amy argued and looked in his direction, "Also, judging by his books, he's probably the best shag in this entire room."

Oh God, he probably was. And he would never even think about touching her now that he knew who she was. Damn, why did it have to be him? And why did she still fancy him now?

"Not worth it," Clara determined, "I can find a nicer man. Like Adrian over there."

"Adrian is married."

Clara sighed. "Of course. Of course he is," she said and took a sip from her drink.

Events at the publishing company were usually a lot of fun and normally Clara enjoyed herself. She danced and talked to all sorts of interesting people, heard of all sorts of interesting new books, the food was great and the music wasn't too shabby. But tonight Clara just couldn't quite relax, not with John Smith lurking around. And the worst part of it was that whenever she glanced at him, he seemed to be able to feel it and looked back at her, at which Clara usually averted her gaze. It was maddening, so she found a table and sat with her back to the bar to avoid any further temptations.

"Would you like to dance?"

His voice made her shoot around and even though for a moment Clara had thought it was her mind playing a trick on her, John Smith was actually standing next to her table and he was talking to her.

"What? With you?" she asked back.

John shrugged. "I'm bored," he said simply, "So do you want to or not?"

Clara considered it for a moment. She could either rebuff him and continue their game of insulting each other, or appreciate that he had obviously just taken the first step.

"Are you only asking so you can step on my toes?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

John rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously because it's hard to step on them while your feet are under the table."

"Okay," Clara said after a moment and rose to her feet, "Let's get this over with, then."

Clara allowed him to lead the way to the dance floor where the DJ was playing a rather slow tune and John took her by the hand and laid the other one on her waist. His touch made her swallow hard. It was a lot gentler than she had anticipated and it tingled on her skin. She could feel herself blush.

"No need to feel ashamed," John told her in a low voice, "You're not as bad at dancing as you think."

"You think you're so hilarious, don't you?" Clara looked up at him, laughing, and John laughed back. God, why did that smile make her knees feel weak? She didn't like him. She fancied him, but she didn't like him.

"I _am_ hilarious," he argued, a pretend frown on his face.

"We can have a debate about that later."

"So, uhm," he paused, his voice low and just a little husky. Clara could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Did you like the science fiction story?"

Clara cleared her throat, trying very hard not to show that the proximity of him was beginning to bother her. . . in a positive manner. "Haven't had a chance to read it yet," she lied, "I'll do it next week. Or the week after."

"And the short story?" John's hand was soft in guiding her, but Clara could still feel that he was attempting to pull her closer. And she let him. Until their bodies finally met and their hips were touching. Maybe someone had just turned the heating up, or maybe it was just his body heat and the smell of his aftershave that was starting to cloud her senses. She felt a little dizzy.

"You know," John bent down, almost whispering in her ear, "The bathtub one."

"Yes," she breathed, staring straight at him.

Suddenly John chuckled. "Well, did you like it?"

God, yes, she had loved it and right now she was ready to recreate that very scene with him. She wanted him, wanted to tear this suit off him, wanted to feel his skin on her own, his hands on every part of her body while that low voice whispered things into her ear and his lips nibbled at her throat. She wanted him to take her right on the spot and for a moment she had thought that that was all part of his silly game, to toy with her, to make her want him just so he could laugh about her later, but then she noticed his eyes and how dark they were with arousal. For a brief second they dropped to her chest where Clara knew John must have an unhindered view on her cleavage. It wasn't a game. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

"I'm sorry," Clara almost panted when she pushed herself away from him. It was too much. Five minutes ago she had hated him and now her only thought was how much she wanted him inside of her. It couldn't be. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

Clara grabbed her purse and coat from her chair as she made her way towards the exit and she didn't even bother to say goodbye to Amy as she left. She just needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you for the cute reviews!_

 **Chapter 11**

The Impossible Girl was in his dreams and in his imagination their dance continued. She laughed until her dimples showed and John watched her blush as their hips touched. She was gorgeous in his dream, and funny, and not at all like Clara Oswald usually was towards him. John enjoyed the dance a little too much, he enjoyed holding her by the waist, enjoyed the heat radiating from her body, the lovely scent from her perfume. Now, in his sleep, he was brave enough to lower his lips to her neck, careful, waiting her reaction. That tiny sound of her gasp sent a thrill through his body.

Needless to say, John woke up hard and aching and he groaned in frustration when reality struck him like a hammer over the head. Clara had fled the party last night and she hadn't come back. It was utterly hopeless. John climbed out of bed and made his way towards the shower, determined to clear his head once and for all off Clara Oswald. As he wrapped his hand around himself, John thought of her delicate neck and her lips, that hint of cleavage under her red dress and how good she had felt, pressed against his body. It could have been wonderful, it could have been him and his lovely Impossible Girl in the bedsheets this morning, her laugh when he teased her, her moans when brought her pleasure. He would have fallen madly in love with this gorgeous woman at some point.

John flicked the switch on the coffee maker and stuck two slices of bread into the toaster, waiting for his breakfast to finish while he booted his laptop. He would spend his day writing, like he usually did. Maybe he would add some sort of bittersweet short story for his new book because he certainly felt in the mood for that right now. Yes, he should write something like that.

As he sipped his coffee and opened his e-mails, John thought for a moment that he was still stuck in his dream because he spotted one message he wouldn't have expected to see in a million years.

* * *

Clara had been staring at the empty box with the blinking cursor for what felt like an eternity. She had hoped that those strange feelings for John Smith/The Doctor would go away over night, but they certainly had not. After she had left the party last night, Clara had tried to go straight to bed, only to find that sleep was impossible, at least as long as John was ghosting through her head and his touch still somehow resonated on her skin. She blamed it on having been single for so long because there was no other explanation for why she should be having these kind of feelings for someone as rude as John. But that wasn't entirely the truth, was it? She had liked the Doctor and as much as she hated to admit that, the Doctor was a part of John Smith.

Clara growled and decided to send him a message.

 _Hello Doctor,_

 _or should I call you John Smith now? It's strange knowing who you are, so I'm not quite sure how to address you anymore._

 _Anyway, I wanted to apologize for just running off last night and I realize that I haven't even answered your question. Your short story was perfect, as always, and it will go straight into the book._

 _Clara_

That was all she could write for now because if she went on, she might admit things she would later regret. So Clara sat back and waited for a reply. One that never came.

Clara decided to busy herself with her household chores to keep her mind off John. She did her laundry, ironed her clothes, washed the dishes and even threw in an hour of pure play time with Sammy, but as the evening drew closer, she was about to give up on that hope of ever receiving a reply to her e-mail. John Smith wasn't interested and even if he had been last night, she had successfully ruined that by storming out of the room. When she still hadn't heard from him at 7, Clara decided to have a shower and spend the rest of the evening on her sofa with Sammy, a glass of wine and her favourite TV show.

However, hopefulness made her check her phone one last time before she settled in the sofa cushions and to her surprise – and delight – she found one new e-mail, including an attachment.

 _Good evening, Clara,_

 _you may call me whatever you like, except maybe_ asshole _– that wouldn't be so very nice. I must admit, I was a little surprised when you just stormed out because I had thought you were enjoying the fact that I wasn't stepping on your toes._

 _The reason I'm replying so late is that I've been busy with a new short story today, which I've just finished. I hope you'll enjoy it._

 _John_

Clara couldn't help but smile at the e-mail and decided to leave out the TV show for tonight and instead read his latest story. If it was as good as the last ones, she would be a lot better entertained.

It didn't take her long to get utterly lost in his writing, even though this short story was kind of sad and maybe a little bittersweet, not that she minded that at this point. The two protagonists were undeniably crazy about each other, but couldn't stay together. Yet that didn't keep them from having one last night of passion, meeting up in the back room of a fancy ballroom where the man lifted up her gown and started to caress her thigh. For some reason Clara imagined John doing that to her, pressing her against the wall like that, his breath coming out ragged right next to her ear, his husky voice. John had a wonderful, erotic voice. Not that she would ever tell him that.

Clara shifted in her seat, trying to focus more on the story and less on her own arousal as she read on, but damn, she couldn't keep herself from wondering. Would it be like that with John? Would his hands do what they did in the story? Would he breathe those words into her ear?

The protagonist kissed his woman and Clara suddenly longed for that sensation, longed for that feeling of a man pressed up against her, for John.

" _You drive me insane," the man whispered against the woman's lips, "You're impossible. You're my Impossible Girl."_

Clara swallowed as she read the words that sent a thrill straight through her entire body and she knew. . . she instantly understood. And right now she didn't care about anything else. She opened her e-mail app and started typing.

 _John,_

 _what's your address?_

 _And do you like wine?_

 _Clara_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you so much for the reviews! And now, the moment you've all been waiting for:_

 **Chapter 12**

John ruffled his hair and looked at the face staring back at him from out of the mirror. Grey hair, wrinkles, bags under his eyes and the early stages of a beard on his chin. Too late to shave now. Clara could be here any moment.

Why was he even so nervous about her coming over? Okay, yes, he was hoping to get lucky tonight, but what were the odds of that happening? Clara was gorgeous and he. . . he was just an old man who made a living from erotic novels. What if she expected it to be just like his fantasies? What if he couldn't keep up? Did he have condoms at home? Of course he had. He had been buying them for years and then throwing them out because the best before date had kept taunting him. Yes, he was nervous. Really, really nervous. And then the doorbell rang, almost causing him to jump up. It really was too late to shave.

Clara was panting when he opened the door and for a moment he had the impression she had been running up the stairs – or that she was nervous as well. She held up a bottle of wine.

"Hey," she breathed.

"Hey," John replied and couldn't hide the smile that just appeared on his face when he saw her. Clara was the prettiest thing he had seen in years and once more he prayed that luck would be on his side tonight. "Uhm, come on in."

Reluctantly she stepped inside and John couldn't help but notice how she glanced around his place, obviously judging how it looked. He suddenly felt a little insecure about his bachelor pad.

"Sorry about the mess," he uttered as he closed the door behind her, "Didn't exactly expect company tonight."

"It's fine," Clara replied with a light shrug of her shoulders and looked at him.

John had no clue what to do or what to say next.

"I, uhm, I could get glasses for, uh," he said and nodded towards the wine bottle in her hand, "Yeah, I'll go and do that. Why don't you sit down?"

He took a deep breath once he stepped inside the kitchen. Clara hadn't even been here five minutes and it was already a disaster. There was no way this could possibly turn out well.

John fetched two glasses out of the cupboard and inhaled deeply once more. He could do it.

Clara was already waiting on the sofa, turning the book that he was currently reading over in her hands, before she placed it back on the table when she saw him enter the living room.

"That's a good book," she commented.

"Mine would be good, too," he remarked before he could stop himself, "If you bothered to read it."

Clara rolled her eyes at him. "I didn't come here to bicker. I'll read it. I've promised, haven't I?"

John set the glasses down on the table and proceeded to open the wine bottle Clara had brought and pour them both a glass. Ten minutes ago he had been so sure that this would turn out well, that maybe she was really interested in him. Now he was anything but certain. Why had she come here at all?

With a sigh he sank down on the sofa and watched as Clara reached for the wine glass, taking a large sip before putting it back on the table.

"Well, this is slightly awkward," he commented, clearing his throat.

"A little, yes," she confirmed.

Suddenly John had an idea and the thought of it made him laugh. "We could always start bickering again. That seems to work for us."

Clara uttered a frustrated groan and before John knew what was happening, she straddled his lap. He made a noise as her hips brushed his member, his body reacting instantly to the touch. He had been hard earlier, writing his story, imagining himself and Clara and resisting the temptation to just reach down into his trousers and give in to the urge, and it didn't take much to fuel his arousal once more. All it needed was this tiny spark that shot straight through him as Clara sat on his lap.

"John, let me be honest," she breathed, "I want you. I want to feel you and I want it right now. Can you do that?"

He swallowed. There was nothing he wanted more. "God, yes!"

She must have anticipated his answer because just a second later their lips clashed in a kiss that instantly robbed him of his breath. Her hands anchored behind his head, tugging at his hair while her hips dug deeper into his crotch, making him moan. John laid his hands on her hips and and guided her rhythm, the friction deliciously unsatisfying. That packet of condoms currently in his drawer wouldn't get thrown out due to its age, John was sure of it.

Clara parted her lips, her tongue eager as she started to explore him, teasing him with the promise of what was to come later. Or not so much later, judging by their vigour. The blood was already leaving his brain, rushing south to make him hard. No, he wouldn't want to wait for much longer.

His hands wandered between them, finding the buttons of her blouse and undoing them. No bra.

"You seem eager," he noted breathlessly when their lips parted for a moment and he gasped for air.

"Do you mind?" Clara panted, her hands already fiddling with his belt.

"No."

Before she could undo his trousers and he ran the risk of stumbling right over them, John tightened his grip around her waist and broke the kiss once more.

"Hold on tight," he said and rose to his feet, his back making an odd sound as he did, but John wouldn't let that keep him from carrying this gorgeous woman to bed.

Clara hooked her arms and legs around him and their lips clashed in another kiss as he made his way towards the bedroom door. She uttered a small noise when he put her back down and Clara instantly pressed her body against his, her belly rubbing deliciously against his crotch. This woman barely reached up to his shoulders and John suddenly started giggling when he bent down to kiss her.

"What's so funny?" Clara asked him breathlessly, giving him a mischievous smirk as her hands dropped back to his trousers. They fell towards the floor just a moment later.

"You. Us," he replied. John looked down at her, watched that wonderful moment he slipped her blouse off her shoulders. Impatient as she was, Clara helped him out and unzipped her skirt for him. As it fell to the floor, John noticed another thing she had left out out today besides her bra and he swallowed.

"What?" Clara shrugged when she noticed his look, "I came prepared."

"I can see that," he mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from the beautiful, naked figure in front of him. His cock was already twitching inside his underpants, tingling at the promise of finding release soon and John decided that he didn't want to waste another second. Quickly he stripped out of his shirt and pants while Clara sat down on his bed, spreading her legs for him just enough to give him a glimpse.

John was on top of her in a matter of seconds, pushing her down into the sheets with a kiss and Clara moaned into his mouth when his cock brushed against her entrance. He could feel the heat and dampness of her sex already and it was driving him half insane. With their lips still locked, John reached into the drawer next to his bed and retrieved one of the condoms he kept in there.

"Ready?" he asked, realizing that he already sounded out of breath.

"Ready when you are," Clara smiled at him.

John moaned when he slid inside her wetness, her walls so hot and tight around him that he just couldn't hold back. The sounds Clara made underneath him only stirred the fire, making him rock into her as she clawed on his back. He wanted to tease her a little, wanted to continue their bickering, but right now he brain just wouldn't let him focus on anything but the feeling surrounding his cock. So what if they didn't get along, in the bedroom they definitely fit.

Suddenly Clara hooked her leg around him, attempting to turn him over and John let her. He would let her do about anything at this point as long as she didn't stop.

Clara straddled his lap, moaning as she sank back down on him and John opened his eyes to appreciate the view in front of him. Her breasts were small and even, moving with their rhythm and John reached out to cup them in his hands, massaging them, at which Clara gasped. No, it wasn't good enough. He wanted to make her fall apart.

While she continued to ride him, John lowered one of his hands to where they were joined, pressing his thumb against her clit and he instantly felt Clara lean forward.

"Yes, right there," she keened, throwing her head back, and John could feel her muscles tighten around him and he bit down on his lips to suppress the moan.

He thrust up a little harder, their rhythm speeding up the closer they came to the finish line and Clara was whimpering on top of him as he continued to circle her clit. Every time he just plunged in deeper, every time John was sure he was going to come any second. The feeling was marvellous and frustrating.

Then her breathing started to come out more ragged, her movements were becoming a little more uncoordinated and John could feel her muscles flutter around his cock as she came, tightening around him and he couldn't hold it back for another second. The feeling of his climax just shot through his body at once and he released himself with a deep groan.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you so much for the reviews!_

 **Chapter 13**

John was still panting, his heart beating so fast that he doubted it would ever calm down again. It had happened, he and his Impossible Girl, and right now John felt like the happiest man on the planet. Until Clara tore him out of his dream.

"Well, I hate to give you a compliment, but that was amazing," she commented breathlessly, a hint of laughter in her voice as she scrambled into a sitting position.

Why was she getting up? John couldn't quite follow, but he instinctively copied her move and sat up in bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked before he could stop himself as Clara reached for her skirt.

She turned around, a look of confusion on her face. "Home of course," she granted him a smile. John could have sworn she was even more beautiful now, her hair a ruffled mess, her cheeks still flushed. Clara was beautiful.

"But I really wouldn't mind a repeat," she said after a moment, sounding nothing but sincere, "I really enjoyed it. And I think so did you."

When Clara laughed John finally snapped out of his daydream and realized just what was happening. She was playing with him. And if she was playing, damn, then so would he.

"Yeah, sure," he uttered, "That can probably be arranged."

Then Clara cocked an eyebrow at him, observing him curiously. "You're not disappointed, are you?"

John scoffed. "Disappointed? Me? Well, I'd have thought you'd stay for round two, but if you're not up to that," he commented, shrugging.

"Another time," Clara said, smiling.

John did nothing as Clara picked up her clothes, he simply watched and waited until he could hear the front door close behind her. Then he sank back into the pillows.

That wasn't how he had expected it to go and it was less than ideal. John liked her and he was almost certain that Clara liked him too, but if she was so determined to keep their silly, little game going, he would be damned to be the first to give in. No, if Clara wanted to play games, his ego wouldn't let her win so easily.

* * *

"I did it," Clara confessed to her friend on the phone, "I slept with him."

"Whoohoo," Amy cheered gleefully, "Clara Oswald got laid. So, did you just get home?"

"No," Clara sighed and next to her the kettle switched off when the water started to boil. She poured it into her tea mug. "I didn't stay over night."

"Was it that bad?"

"Not at all," Clara replied instantly and right now she couldn't even say why she had left in such a hurry. What had gotten into her? "It was strange at first. Between us. We were both nervous, we both didn't know what to say, so we just went on to. . . do it. It was amazing. And then I left cause I thought he wouldn't want me to stay and then I wasn't sure and then-," Clara groaned, "Amy, what am I doing?"

"I don't know," her friend said, "What _are_ you doing?"

Suddenly something bumped into her leg and Clara looked down to see Sammy rubbing his cheeks against her trousers, purring loudly.

"I like him," Clara admitted after a moment, "I think he likes me, too, but we just can't get on the same wavelength somehow. I'm not sure what I should do."

To her surprise Amy started to chuckle. "Clara, I know you're stubborn, but if you like him, then maybe you should make the first move. Tell him."

Maybe she should. After all, what could she possible lose except for her pride, which was nagging her, trying to prevent her from giving in first. Why couldn't he be the one to admit that he liked her first?

"I'll think about it," she said after a while. Maybe she could give him a subtle hint first, coax him into admitting it. She would really have to think this through.

* * *

John had been watching Jenny for almost ten minutes now as she was working to install a new router in his flat and he had no idea what was going on. He was a science fiction author, or wanted to be, he should know these kind of things, but what his daughter was currently doing to improve his internet connection seemed like some form of magic to him.

"There, all done," she said after a while.

"Uhm," John stammered, "Thanks. What exactly did you do?"

Jenny smiled at him. "Let's just say your internet is better now."

He frowned at her in reply, still not sure just what this change was for. "That doesn't really make sense, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Jenny giggled, "But enough about that. How was your date?"

John scoffed in reply and took a sip from his tea mug. "Trust me, you don't want to know about your old man's love life."

The grin on his daughter's face only widened. "Okay, since you mention _love life_ I'm guessing that it went well and now I'm definitely curious."

With a groan John turned around and headed back inside the kitchen, fully aware that Jenny was following him. Why on earth had he raised such a curious child?

"It didn't go well. It went horribly," he explained with a sigh, "The Impossible Girl turned out to be the same horrible publisher that keeps refusing my novels."

"Oh," Jenny uttered in response, "So, no love life then?"

John knew that his hesitation gave him away the moment he failed to deny it and his daughter's face instantly lit back up. Oh, why did he raise her to be clever as well?

"Naughty," Jenny commented, a smug grin on her face, "Are you gonna see her again? Will she be my new stepmum?"

John rolled his eyes when Jenny started to chuckle again. "Hilarious," he growled, "But yes, I'll probably see her again. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but yes."

Suddenly the phone started to buzz inside his pocket and whenever it did, John cursed the moment he had let his daughter talk him into buying this annoying device. Then he saw who the e-mail was from.

"Booty call?" Jenny giggled, "Also you're welcome. You know, for the smartphone. Admit it, you like it now."

"I've had more annoying things. You as a baby for instance," John mumbled in reply as he read the message, which contained Clara's phone number. She was suggesting that sending text messages might be quicker and more practical when it wasn't about work. He shouldn't text back immediately. No, he should let her wait for his reply, so John slid the phone back in his pocket and looked up at his daughter. "What's a booty call?"

With a laugh Jenny patted him on the shoulder. "Dad, if you're going to date someone half your age, you should learn the vocabulary. Look it up."

He was still too confused about his last encounter with Clara to react properly and Jenny's reaction to her father having casual sex wasn't exactly what he had expected. When his daughter had left, John sank down on the sofa and eyed his laptop. He should probably get some work done, but first he needed to figure out a couple of things. Staring with the meaning of _booty call_.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you so much for the reviews, guys! I'm glad you're enjoying this fic as much as I enjoy writing it! After some people have suggested it to me, I decided to get a ko-fi page (FF net doesn't allow links but you can find the link on my Tumblr, which is in my bio), so if you want to show your love for my fics by buying me a coffee, I would greatly appreciate it :)_

 **Chapter 14**

Clara found it increasingly difficult to focus on her work when she felt the need to check her phone every five minutes. More than 24 hours had passed since she had sent John her phone number and he hadn't replied yet. No message. No e-mail. No letter. Not even a carrier pigeon. She was even beginning to regret having left his flat in such a hurry and there was the possibility that he might be mad at her for that. Why else would he fail to reply?

With a groan Clara slipped the phone back into her pocket and looked at the vending machine in front of her. She stuck a couple of coins in the slot and selected a plain, black coffee, knowing that she would need all the caffeine she could get if she wanted to at least get some of her work done.

"Damn, I'm too late."

Clara shot around and looked straight into the face of a young man who was smiling down at her. She had seen him around the building and every time she had caught him staring at her.

"Too late for what?" she asked bluntly.

The man smiled. "To buy you a coffee of course. Here, let me," he said and bent down to retrieve the coffee from the machine before he handed it to her. "Careful, it's hot."

"I should hope that it is," Clara mumbled and took the coffee from him.

"So, what do you say?"

Clara looked up at him and obviously she was missing something because she had no idea what he was talking about. "Mh?"

"I'd like to buy you a coffee some time," he said, smiling broadly.

"Uhm," she spluttered hesitantly. She didn't want to go out with him. Not really. Her love life was already complicated enough and she didn't even know this man. "I'm busy."

The man chuckled. "I meant after work."

Suddenly the phone vibrated in her pocket and Clara almost jumped at the sensation. She drew the device out of her pocket and looked at the display. John. Finally. But then she became aware that the man was still waiting for an answer to his question.

"Yeah, uhm, sorry. I'm _very_ busy," she said and made her way past him and out of the cafeteria.

Once she was back in her office, Clara instantly put the coffee down and took her phone back out, reading the message John had sent her.

 _Here's my number. Feel free to use it, for business or personal matters._

 _John_

Clara looked at the words and couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about its content. Yes, he had replied and yes, he had given her his number, but the message seemed cold and distant. Maybe he really was mad about the other night and her sudden disappearance. She should probably listen to Amy and make a step in his direction, show him that she liked him. So Clara replied instantly.

 _Hey John, glad to hear from you :) I feel like cooking tonight. Do you want to come over for dinner?_

 _Clara_

A smile spread across her face when his reply came immediately.

 _I'm gonna need your address for that ;)_

 _John_

Clara texted him the address and put her phone away, feeling good about herself at last. He wasn't mad at her and she had a date tonight. But before that she still had some work to do.

* * *

This time Clara was wearing underwear. She had selected a nice skirt and top, combed her hair and powdered her nose, determined to make a good impression on him. Tonight it wouldn't just be about sex, tonight she would cook for John and show him that she liked him. Couldn't be so hard, could it?

When the doorbell rang, Clara made her way through the corridor, but not without throwing one last glance into the mirror. She nodded approvingly towards her own reflection. She could do this.

John granted her a shy smile when she opened the door and Clara couldn't help but notice that the shyness looked quite adorable on John. But then she spotted the rest of him: he was dressed in a dark pair of plaid trousers with a hoodie thrown over a faded t-shirt. She snorted.

"Didn't have time to get dressed today?" Clara asked, smiling at him.

His faced turned into a frown in an instant.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't ask you here to bicker. Please, come in."

John followed her inside the flat and looked around curiously, just like she had done in his apartment. Right now he was probably judging every single piece of furniture.

Then John burst into laughter and started to approach her book shelf, reaching for the silly ceramic owl that she had picked up on a whim and that was now serving as a bookend.

"Did your grandmother decorate this place?" John asked, still laughing.

"Put that back," Clara snapped at him and tore the owl out of his hands to place it back on the shelf, "You can't just touch my stuff without asking."

At that John snorted. "Excuse me, I believe the last time we met _you_ touched _me_ without asking."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes in annoyance, "Don't act as if you didn't want the exact same thing. You couldn't wait to get me into bed."

He shrugged and eventually nodded in response.

"Besides," Clara added, gesturing towards the owl, "I think he looks a bit like you. The resemblance is uncanny."

John laughed in reply. "That's rich, coming from a person with inflatable eyes. Careful, they might pop."

Clara groaned. "John, why are we doing this? I asked you here for dinner, not so we could be at each other's throats!"

"You started it," he stated.

"Yeah, but you were all too happy to play along and _ooh_ -"

Clara uttered a sound of surprise when John suddenly leaned forward and their lips clashed in a kiss. He hooked his arms around her waist, pulling Clara up to his body and she could instantly feel her anger give way to something that came very close to arousal. John kissed her hungrily and in return Clara parted her lips to let him in, their tongues continuing the battle when for a moment they couldn't throw insults at each other.

Eventually Clara started running out of breath and she pulled away to look at him. His intentions were written all over his face and Clara wanted nothing more than to give in.

"What about dinner?" she asked breathlessly.

John shrugged. "We're gonna be hungry after the workout."

"Good point," she agreed and went up on her toes to kiss him again.


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you for the reviews!_

 **Chapter 15**

Clara had stolen his old t-shirt and was now sitting next to him on the sofa, her bare legs crossed and her plate on her lap as she munched the dinner she had prepared for both of them. John chewed every bite carefully, his mind somewhere else entirely. What exactly where they doing? Did they like each other? Did they hate each other? What on earth was going on? Maybe sorting his own feelings would be a little easier if he knew what Clara was thinking – but she was unreadable to him. What was going on in her head? Was she using him? Playing him? Was she just as confused as he was? He couldn't tell.

Suddenly John was startled when the cat jumped up on the sofa and eyed him cautiously before he slowly started to inch closer to him, smelling John's arm with his little cat nose.

"He's cute," he said when the cat finally allowed John to pet him, "What's his name?"

"Sammy," Clara replied and took a little piece of meat from her plate to give it to the cat. Sammy swallowed it instantly and started to purr loudly while John continued to stroke his fur.

"Well, at least Sammy likes me," he uttered, "My daughter's cat is a real beast."

At the mention of his daughter Clara's head immediately shot up. "You have a daughter?" she asked and sounded a little taken aback by that revelation.

"Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?"

Clara looked at him, her eyes just a little larger than before. "I don't know. You've never mentioned her before. How old is she?" she wanted to know.

"She's 23 now."

"Phew," Clara sighed, "That's good."

John wasn't quite sure why she was relieved now, so he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well," she began when she noticed the look on his face, "If she was older than me, it would have been slightly awkward."

"Why?" John asked bluntly.

Clara sighed and shook her head in response. "Nevermind."

It was still so very strange between them and not even sex seemed to be able to change that. John racked his brain for something to say, something he could tell her, but Clara didn't even seem to want to talk. She had just left his flat afterwards, so maybe she expected the same of him.

"Well, I think I should go now," he said after a moment, "Dinner was great. Unless. . . you want me to help with the dishes?"

He looked at her and a part of him was hoping that she would take him up on his offer. He wanted to get closer to her, but there seemed to be an invisible wall between them.

"No, that's alright. I cooked, so I have to clean up the mess," she replied and instantly lowered her gaze.

With a sigh John rose to his feet and looked at her. "I'm afraid I'm gonna need my shirt back," he chuckled.

Finally a smile appeared on her face and it was a mischievous one. "Well, you can't have it back."

John smiled back at her. "What if I take it from you?"

Clara shrugged. "You could try."

He extended his hands towards her and Clara took them without hesitation as he pulled her up to her feet. His fingers found the seam of the t-shirt and tugged at it for a moment, until Clara landed against his chest once more before he lifted his shirt up and pulled it over her head. John bent down to kiss her and for a moment his determination to leave wavered a little. He wanted to keep on kissing her, wanted to drag her back to bed and tomorrow morning wake up with Clara on top of him. But did she want the same thing?

Clara giggled when they broke apart to breathe. "Well, I guess you succeeded. _Thief._ "

"I believe you stole that from me first. I simply stole it back," he said and John became all too aware that Clara's naked figure was still pressed against his own body. If he didn't leave now, he'd never find the courage to do it.

"Until the next time?" he asked hopefully.

Clara smiled up at him. "I'm counting on that."

* * *

Clara leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. She had finally finished reading John's novel and she couldn't help but admit that it was good. _Really_ good. The story was gripping, the characters fascinating and beautifully flawed and of course his writing was as great as always. There was nothing bad she could say about his science fiction debut and yes, it would probably be hers as well.

While she was still considering her next step, wondering whether she should tell John on the spot or make him wait, Clara was interrupted by a knock on her office door and a few seconds later a man entered. Clara recognized him immediately. It was the annoying guy she had met in the canteen two days ago and this time he came to her office – carrying two cups of coffee.

"I thought I'd bring you some coffee," he said, "Since you skilfully evaded my question the last time we met."

Clara rolled her eyes at him, already feeling annoyed by his presence once again. "I didn't evade your question. I told you I was busy."

"Even now?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Especially now," she replied, "I need to finish reading this novel."

"Good," the man concluded as he put the cup down on her desk, "Then you will need to relax after work. I would even up my offer to dinner instead of coffee."

Clara opened her mouth to protest, but the insolent man cut her off before she even had a chance.

"I'll stop by your office this evening after work. When you're hungry and desperate," he said, winking at her, before he turned around and left her office.

Clara huffed once she was alone once more. That man really had some nerve and she most certainly wouldn't go out with him. She needed to consider her options because Clara was certain that saying no to him wouldn't be easy. Maybe she could leave work early? Sneak out before he could stop by her office? No, she wouldn't run away and it wouldn't do any good either. He would just try again tomorrow. What Clara really needed was an excuse and there was only one she could think of.

She reached for her phone and instantly dialled his number. The phone rang. And rang.

"Come on, please pick up," she whispered and then finally Clara could hear John's voice on the other end of the line. "Emergency! You're my boyfriend!"


	16. Chapter 16

_Thank you for the reviews!_

 **Chapter 16**

"Excuse me?"

Clara inhaled deeply, trying to think of a way how she could make it plain to John that she really needed his help right now without scaring him off immediately.

"I need a fake boyfriend," she explained, "A guy from work keeps asking me out and he doesn't strike me as the type to take no for an acceptable answer."

John snorted on the other end of the line. "That doesn't really sound like my problem, does it? Just tell him you don't want to go out with him."

She let out a long groan. "I know that he will just keep coming back. Please, John, do me the favour. Pick me up from work today so he sees us together," she almost begged him, "Please. I made you dinner the other night."

John hesitated for a long moment and Clara was beginning to grow increasingly nervous. Had she misjudged him? The Doctor would have helped her out in a heartbeat. John Smith obviously wouldn't.

"Fine," he said after a while, "Under one condition."

"Uhm, which is?" Clara asked carefully.

"You will read my book next. The whole book, not just the first sentence," he demanded and Clara instantly knew that she had no other choice but to agree if she wanted his help. She had read it already and his condition meant that she would soon have to tell him that she had enjoyed it. And sooner rather than later.

"Okay, fine," she groaned in reply, "I'll read it if you you'll pick me up after work. And don't wear those pyjama bottoms."

"Why not?" Clara could hear him chuckle. "Last time you couldn't wait to take them off me."

"Because this time I need you to look like my dashing boyfriend, not like my fuck buddy who is currently in a midlife crisis and trying on his teenage son's punk clothes," Clara groaned and instantly wanted to bite off her tongue. For a moment she thought John would back out immediately after her latest insult.

"You think I'm dashing?" John giggled instead.

"Shut up."

But he didn't shut up and he didn't stop laughing. "I'll be there," he promised, "See you later."

"Thank you," Clara uttered in relief, "Seriously, thank you."

* * *

John was wearing his best suit as he walked into the building and somehow he couldn't stop smiling. He had the perfect plan already laid out, one that wouldn't disappoint Clara, but one that would annoy the hell out of her. John would be the most convincing fake boyfriend the world had ever seen and in return Clara would read his novel. Soon he was going to be a published author, John was sure of that.

After a short knock on the door he walked into her office, obviously interrupting something because he caught Clara mid-sentence while she was talking to the man in front of her desk – and she seemed angry. John glanced at him and he understood instantly why Clara had asked for his help. The man was young, well dressed and had the looks of someone who thought he could get any woman when he just pestered her long enough.

"Sorry darling," John uttered as he approached her, "Got stuck in a traffic jam."

When he came to a halt in front of her, John bent down and pressed a kiss to her mouth. He could tell that Clara had expected it to be chaste, but he just crushed their lips together until she parted hers and John could slip his tongue into her mouth, giving her a full blown snog right in front of her admirer. They only broke apart when the man next to her desk cleared his throat.

"Oh, uhm, sorry about that. This is John, my boyfriend," Clara muttered and rose to her feet, but not without throwing John a shy glance.

"Boyfriend, significant other, sugar daddy, whatever you want to call it."

Clara shot John a dirty look for that.

"Well, now I know why you didn't want to go out with me," the man said and granted John a smile, "Sorry about that. Can't blame me for trying, right?"

"Yeah," John sighed, "I don't think I'm the reason Clara didn't want to go out with you."

An awkward silence fell over the office while the man glanced at the floor and Clara shuffled her feet nervously next to him, but John wasn't done playing her boyfriend yet. In the spur of the moment John smacked her arse, grinning at her.

"Ow," she complained instantly, glaring at him, but John simply smiled back.

"Ready to go out, darling? I've made a reservation at our restaurant."

"Great, that's. . . that's great."

"So, do you wanna tell this guy to fuck off or should I?" John asked her matter-of-factly, pointing at the stranger, "Or I could just beat him up if he's pestering you?"

Clara uttered a nervous laugh. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows at the man who was now looking very uncomfortable, "You know I can do aikido. That's no problem at all, although I'd hate to ruin the suit."

"I'm sorry," the man said instantly, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture, "I didn't know Clara had a boyfriend."

"You've still been bothering her even after she said she doesn't want to go out with you," he argued and took a step forward until he could feel Clara's hand on his arm.

"Really, John, that's enough. He won't try again."

"I just wanna make sure-"

"Enough!" She raised her voice at him and when John turned around to look at her, the other man used the opportunity to disappear. A moment later he heard the door close.

"I've asked you here to pretend to be my boyfriend, not my super jealous and aggressive lover. Sugar daddy? _Really?_ " Clara spat at him.

John merely shrugged in response. "I got him off your back. Aren't you happy about that?"

"Don't play dumb with me cause I know you're not," she said angrily, "A simple kiss would have done the trick, but you had to be rude and embarrassing."

John raised his eyebrows at her. "So you don't want to go out to have dinner? Because I actually made a reservation."

"I wouldn't go out with you if I was starving," Clara snapped and reached for her handbag on her desk, "Close the door behind you when you leave."

And with that she turned around and headed outside, slamming the door shut as she left. John swallowed hard as soon as he was alone. He had wanted to annoy her, but he wouldn't have thought she would be that mad at him. Things really hadn't gone according to plan. Again.


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you so much for the reviews!_

 **Chapter 17**

Clara stopped as soon as she had stepped out of her office. What on earth was she doing? Why was she running away again and why had she acted like that in there? John had helped her out and even though he may have taken the charade a little far, a part of her had thought it to be funny. And he had made a dinner reservation, too.

Why couldn't she just say that she liked him? Why couldn't she just be nice? Clara wanted them to work out, she wanted him to take her out to dinner, but her damn pride never let her say the things that were actually on her mind.

Then Clara suddenly turned back around when her office door opened again and John stepped out on the corridor, wearing a sad look on his face. When he glanced up he was visibly surprised to find her still standing on the corridor. She could still change her mind. She could do it right now, admit that she liked him, admit that she would love to go out.

"You're still here," he uttered in surprise.

"Yeah," Clara breathed.

 _Say it_ , she told herself, _Say it now_.

"Did you forget something in your office?" John asked carefully.

"No," she replied. Now was really the time to admit that she liked him. "I'm kinda hungry."

It seemed as if that was the best she could do. Damn her stubborn mouth.

"Well, there's a table reserved for us at a nice restaurant," he told her with a shrug.

Clara sighed. "Won't I have to change my clothes?" She pointed at him. "Look at you in your suit."

"The suit was just for show," he argued, "I can take the jacket off and put on my sunglasses and look like a wannabe rockstar. Better?"

Finally Clara cracked a smile as he held out his arm for her to take. "Much better."

* * *

When Clara woke up the next morning there was something odd about her bed, something that didn't feel quite right, but she was too comfortable to actually look for the cause of what exactly was bothering her. Instead she decided to just go back to sleep. Then Clara could hear someone snoring next to her and she turned around in bed immediately. John was sleeping peacefully next to her, only occasionally uttering a snoring sound, and Clara started to remember why she was here and not in her own bed.

The evening had gone well. _Really_ well. They had gone out to dinner, talked, only bickered a little, and afterwards they had gone back to his place to have sex. Only it hadn't come to that. Clara had been tired after a long day at work and she only vaguely remembered some kissing and fumbling before they had both fallen asleep. Even now they were still only half undressed.

The first thing Clara felt was confusion. Should she be here? Didn't they have a rule about leaving after sex? But they hadn't done anything and they had fallen asleep. She kind of wanted to stay and she kind of didn't want that at all. But right now, as she looked at him, he was the Doctor and not John. Last night he had been the man she had had a crush on for weeks and that just added to her confusion. The Doctor was the one who would want her to stay, but John would probably throw her out as soon as he woke up. Clara should do him the favour and leave before that happened.

But when Clara made an attempt to move, John uttered a grumbling sound and reached for her hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" he half groaned, his voice sleepy, "I wasn't done with you."

"Oh?" Clara couldn't help but chuckle, "You had your chance last night, mister, and fell asleep."

"So did you," he argued and finally opened his eyes before he scrambled into a sitting position to look at her.

"You're not mad?" she asked carefully, raising her eyebrows at him.

John frowned at her in response, obviously puzzled in his sleepy state. "Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know-" Clara uttered, but her sentence was cut short when John pulled her down on top of him and their lips met in a kiss. It was different than it usually was, just like last night had been different. John was slow and careful in every move, every touch and Clara found herself parting her lips for his lazy, sloppy kiss. There was no eagerness behind it, no need. It was just a plain, almost loving kiss.

"How about I take off the rest of your clothes now?" he grinned at her when they broke apart, but before Clara could answer with a yes, the doorbell interrupted their moment.

"Ah crap," he uttered, followed by a long sigh, "Better put those clothes back on."

"Why?" Clara asked in confusion while John climbed out of bed and started rummaging through his drawers for fresh clothes.

"Cause that's Jenny," he explained, "My daughter. We have a breakfast date that I completely forgot about."

For a moment Clara thought her heart had stopped and in her panic she couldn't imagine how John could possibly stay so damn calm when his daughter and younger lover were about to meet for the first time. She had no idea what to do and John didn't seem to want to help her out either.

"What should I do?" Clara asked immediately, "Do you want me to hide and sneak out while you are in the kitchen? Should I tell her I'm here because of your novel? John, say something!"

Finally John seemed to have found the pair of trousers he had been looking for and turned back around to face her. The expression on his face was infuriatingly calm.

"Or you could join us for breakfast," he suggested with a shrug, "Jenny knows about you."

"You told your daughter about me? About us?!"

John simply nodded.

"Calm down," he said eventually, rolling his eyes, "I didn't give her details, of course, but I don't keep secrets from my daughter. She's my best friend."

Clara hesitated, for a moment not knowing what to do. He had asked her to stay for breakfast and she knew that it was a big step to meet his daughter, one she didn't think either of them were ready for, not with the way their relationship was going at the moment. They would just awkwardly sit around the table with no idea what to say and what to do.

"No," Clara replied after a moment, "I think I should leave. Besides, I've got to go to work."

He nodded slowly, but Clara could tell that he was just a little bit disappointed and suddenly she felt overcome by guilt. She liked him. He obviously liked her. Why were they making everything so unnecessarily complicated?

Clara jumped out of bed and gave him a short peck on the lips before she smiled at him.

"I've had a lovely time yesterday," she admitted, "And thank you for helping me out with the annoying guy at work."

"My pleasure," he replied and suddenly his face lit up, "And don't forget to read my novel, yeah?"

"I won't," Clara grinned at him, "I'll be in touch, okay?"

She watched him nod before she turned around and gathered up her coat and purse. On her way out she had almost forgotten who was waiting in front of the door and when Clara stepped outside, she found herself face to face with a young, pretty woman.

"Oh," she uttered in surprise and could instantly feel herself blush, "Uhm, hi."

"Hi," Jenny replied and a few seconds later a large grin spread across her face. Yep, John had definitely told his daughter enough. "You must be Clara, I assume."

"Yeah," she breathed, "And you're the daughter. Jenny, right?"

"Ah, so he admitted we're related. That's nice. You're not staying for breakfast?"

"No," Clara uttered nervously. Jenny seemed like a lovely person, but the meeting in the hallway was all the proof of awkwardness that she needed. "Work, you know? Books to read. Crappy authors to turn down."

"Shame," Jenny said with a shrug while she stepped past Clara into the flat, "Well, it was nice meeting you."

"And you," she swallowed and decided it was definitely time to leave.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Okay, a beautiful woman just left your flat at 8 in the morning, why do you look so beaten?" his daughter demanded to know and John sank down on the kitchen chair with a heavy sigh.

Everything had gone so well, or at least he thought it had, up until ten minutes ago.

"Because it's not working out," John admitted in defeat. It wasn't, was it? "Clara and I, we're just not on the same wavelength. Outside of our e-mails we've managed to have one decent conversation and that's it. I don't think there's any point in trying to make it work because Clara obviously doesn't want a relationship."

"So you're gonna break up with her?" Jenny asked in disbelief, "Have you _looked_ at her? She is gorgeous!"

"I know that she is gorgeous, anyone who has eyes can tell that she's gorgeous," he said angrily, "But I'm not the type for this sort of thing. I want a proper relationship, not some casual fling and I certainly don't want to be booty-called by someone who doesn't really like me at all."

Jenny raised her eyebrows at his vocabulary.

John wanted a relationship and he wanted that with Clara. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her and that was dangerous. He would fall in love and Clara would never feel the same way. John would only end up getting his heart broken when she left him for good. The only thing he could do was to end it before it became too painful.

"Have you told her that?"

John looked up, eyeing his daughter closely.

"I'm starting to get the impression that you're desperate to set me up," he huffed.

Jenny sighed. "You got me. If a younger woman takes pity on you, I won't have to nurse you when you're old. She can change your nappies and I can just pop in every other Sunday," she explained with a shrug.

"Lovely," John growled, "Remind me to take you out of my will before I get Alzheimer's."

"Dad, I'm serious. Tell her," his daughter prompted him, "What have you got to lose? If she wants the same thing, then perfect. If she doesn't, at least you'll know for sure."

"I'll also make a fool of myself," he scoffed. Clara had never wanted a relationship, not for a single moment. She had been looking for something casual, that was why she had chosen him, the author of erotic fiction. She was young and just wanted to have a good time and John was no longer willing to play along if all he got in return was a broken heart.

Jenny rolled her eyes in front of him. "How did you ever manage to get Mum and have me?"

John opened his mouth to reply, but his daughter was quicker.

"Wait, don't tell me," she sighed, "Mum had her eyes on you and you didn't stand a chance."

"Sounds about right," John mumbled and suddenly raised his eyebrows, "And I hope I don't have to tell you how babies are made?"

Jenny chuckled. "No need for that today, I think. But how about we finally have some breakfast? I'm starving!"

John nodded slowly and rose from his chair to switch on the kettle. However, his appetite had faded away completely. No matter how much it hurt, he would have to break up with Clara Oswald before he fell for her completely.

* * *

"A science fiction novel?" her boss eyed her curiously, "That's not usually your metier, is it?"

"It's not," Clara said instantly, "But this one was written by one of my anonymous authors and he's asked me to read it. I was every bit as sceptical as you are right now, judging by that look on your face, but his other work sells really well and I assume so would this one. It's amazing."

Still her boss didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Trust me, I'm the last person to read science fiction novels, I hate the whole idea of it, but this is really good. It's easily the best thing I've read in a year."

"I do trust you, Miss Oswald," her boss replied eventually, "You just have a natural talent for knowing what works and what doesn't. If you really think this book could sell, then go ahead with it. I trust your instincts."

"Thank you," Clara beamed at him, "Thank you so much!"

Clara grabbed the script and headed out of his office, making her way back to her own. She would call John and ask to see him tonight to give him the good news and maybe finally confess her feelings for him. She wasn't ready to officially meet his daughter yet, but right now she felt ready to take the next step and admit that she wanted more than just a casual fling.

"You look happy today. Good book?"

Clara stopped and turned around to look straight into the face of the man who had asked her out several times. Her features froze instantly.

"Don't worry, I'm just here to apologize," he said as if he had been reading her thoughts, "I didn't know you had a boyfriend and I just wanted you to know that I won't bother you again."

Slowly Clara nodded in reply. "Okay," she breathed.

Suddenly the man chuckled. "He seems like an odd fellow though, your boyfriend."

"He is," she confirmed with a smile. Why was she smiling? Because she liked the thought of being his girlfriend? "Lovably odd."

"Well, I suppose every Jack has his Jill," he shrugged, "He won't come here again to beat me up, will he?"

Suddenly Clara couldn't hold back the laughter. "I don't think so."

"Good," the man sighed in relief, "Have a nice day."

"You too," Clara wished him before she stepped into her office.

Once she was alone, Clara couldn't help but smile to herself. She hadn't really noticed it the day before when she had been slightly mad at John and she hadn't noticed it this morning over her shock of meeting his daughter, but she actually liked the thought of becoming his girlfriend. John was strange. They could bicker until their tongues fell off. But, strangely enough, she really liked him.

Clara drew her phone out of her pocket and decided to send him a message right away.

 _Hey, do you have time later? I want to see you tonight :)_

 _Clara_

When he didn't reply immediately, Clara concluded that he must be working, so she decided to do the same thing and set up everything she needed to publish his novel. He would probably give her a long speech about how he had told her from the beginning that it was good and how stubborn she was, but even if he did, he wouldn't be wrong.

Finally, after an hour, her phone buzzed next to her.

 _Of course. Anything after 6 is good._

 _John_

* * *

When the doorbell rang, John took a deep breath. He had spent all day practising what he was going to say to her, but every thought seemed to have vanished when he opened the door and looked right into her lovely face.

"Hey," Clara greeted him happily, a bright smile on her face.

Did he really have to break up with her? Wasn't a broken heart a fair price to pay for some more time with Clara?

"Hey," he said reluctantly.

Clara immediately closed the distance between them and placed her hands on his chest. The smile on her face didn't fade for a second. "I have some good news for you," she chuckled.

"Oh?" John asked her nervously. Her touch was making him forget all about what he wanted to do.

"Yeah, trading good news for a kiss?"

Before he could stop her Clara had gone up on tiptoes and pressed their lips together in a long, soft kiss. To hell with it. A broken heart was definitely worth one more time with Clara. Just one more time, then he would end it even if it hurt.


	19. Chapter 19

_Thank you for your lovely reviews! Also, don't hit me. . ._

 **Chapter 19**

Clara wasn't entirely sure how they had ended up in the bedroom, but when John pulled her top over her head and kissed her hungrily, she found that she didn't quite care. Judging by his stories, she had always suspected that he was a good lover – but she hadn't suspected it to be better than fiction. When their clothes had gone and they fell back onto the bed, John showered her with kisses. His touch made her feel as if her body was on fire and she was writhing in the sheets before he had come even close to the centre of her arousal.

"John," she keened when their lips parted so they could catch their breath, "I need you."

He looked at her and for a moment Clara thought she saw sadness in his eyes and it didn't fade when she smiled at him.

"Something wrong?" she asked him.

"No," he replied and a second later he locked their lips in another kiss while he climbed on top of her.

When he moved inside of her, it was slow and deliberate, and Clara hooked her leg around his hips to guide him. It was strange how they fit together so well in the bedroom and just couldn't admit what they were actually feeling outside of it. Clara wanted to tell him, to say it now that he was within her, but the only thing that came over her lips was a moan when his thrusts started to come faster. She clawed at his back, her breathing coming out ragged as he movements sped up, as he was digging deeper inside her and every thrust just brought her closer to the edge.

Clara raised her hands to his face and pulled him down to meet her lips, whimpering into his mouth while he rocked into her and then finally, when she already thought it was becoming too much to bear, one thrust pushed her over the edge and Clara tightened her grip around him as she climaxed. John's movements stopped a moment later and he released himself inside of her.

John collapsed next to her, his breathing heavy, and Clara also needed a moment to calm down before she finally gave him the good news about his book. Right now she was more than confident that she was making the right decision. Tell him about the book and then tell him about her feelings – that was on her agenda for tonight. The sex had only been a surprising, but lovely detour.

She chuckled when the aftershocks of her orgasm slowly seemed to ebb away. "You know, this is even better than in your stories," Clara said with a smile and turned around to look at him.

When John moved his head to look back, she had expected him to smile as well, but there was that sadness again, the one she had noticed earlier.

"Okay, what's wrong?" she asked, "And don't tell me nothing, cause I can see that something is bothering you."

With a sigh John sat up in bed and bent down to retrieve his shirt and underpants from the floor. He didn't speak while Clara watched him put his clothes back on and, as if by instinct, she pulled up the covers to her chin.

"I can't keep doing this," John said wearily, his back still turned towards her.

"What do you mean?" Clara asked instantly and a bad feeling was starting to rise inside of her, causing her stomach to turn into a knot. She had a vague feeling of where this conversation was going, but she still hoped that she was wrong.

She heard take a sharp intake of breath. "We should end this. . . whatever it is. It was fun at first, but every time you leave I feel a little worse."

Clara sat up in bed in an instant. "Look at me!" she demanded angrily. Still John didn't move. "John, look at me!"

Finally he turned around and there was nothing but determination in his eyes. He really wanted to end it. The knot in her stomach tightened.

"You want to break up with me?" Clara wanted to know, just to be sure.

He nodded in reply. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you straight after you came here. I shouldn't have done this, I shouldn't have slept with you, that wasn't fair."

"Damn right it wasn't!" she spat and rose from the bed to pick up her own clothing. She put them on hastily, hurrying up so she might feel less vulnerable while she talked to him, but that was only an illusion. The clothes didn't make a difference.

Clara wasn't sure how she was feeling about it. Angry? Sad? Disappointed? She had thought that he had feelings for her as well, but obviously she had been wrong. She felt ashamed all of a sudden. There was one more emotion she could add to the mix.

"I'm sorry, Clara," John apologized once more, "I don't think this was a very good idea to begin with."

"You can save your breath," Clara muttered as she struggled with her tights. She didn't need his apologies now. All she needed was to leave as quickly as possible.

"At least let me explain." He caught her arm when she was trying to leave the room, but Clara struggled free from his grip. She could feel the tears coming and she wasn't going to cry in front of John. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I don't want your explanations. Or your apologies."

Clara grabbed her handbag and headed out of his flat as quickly as she could, not even throwing John another glance. He could go to hell.

* * *

John exhaled sharply when the front door closed behind her. It hurt. It hurt like hell. But that was nothing compared to what he would have felt in a few months had things continued that way. He and Clara wanted different things, that much was obvious, sad as that was. He had so hoped for more ever since he and the Impossible Girl had started exchanging personal e-mails, but at least now he could try to get over her. And the best way to do that was by distracting himself.

He had wanted to write a sequel to his still unpublished science fiction novel for a long time now, but tonight seemed like a very good point to actually start working on it. At least it would take his mind off Clara for a few hours while he got lost in a fictional world of his own creation. John made himself a cup of tea and sat down at his desk in front of his laptop and it didn't even take him long before the words came flowing from his mind. This story picked up a few years after his last novel and the protagonist had changed after having experienced the loss of the love of his life. A few moments later John had banned Clara from his mind completely.

He wrote for over an hour and he only bothered to check the time when a new e-mail popped up and John decided to take a break from writing and read it. He was surprised at the sender and even more surprised at the content of it, so he read it again. And again. And again. Until the truth had finally sunk in and John understood what it said. Then he cursed, reached for his jacket and darted out of his flat.


	20. Chapter 20

_Thank you all so, so, so much for reading and reviewing this story! It makes me so happy to know that you've enjoyed it and don't fear – the next one is already well in planning. It's going to be a Memory Loss AU called "Lost & Found" and I will start posting after I've finished my Colepaldi Fic (which you can read on AO3 if you're interested). Have a lovely Sunday!_

 **Chapter 20**

Clara dropped her bag and jacket on the floor and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Idiot," she cursed. John really was an idiot and she was the idiot who had misjudged his intentions. Clara had thought that he liked her, so she had allowed herself to like him as well and now she felt utterly disappointed. And stupid. And also very, very sad.

Her cat meowed in the distance and a moment later the furry head looked around the corner. Clara sighed.

"At least one man who won't disappoint me," she mumbled and went to pick up her pet before she made her way towards the sofa.

Sammy purred on her lap once she had sat down and Clara petted him while considering her options. She hadn't even had the chance to tell John about his book and she had already set everything into motion to get it published. Then it also dawned on her that they would have to continue to talk to each other – in e-mails and in person once his science fiction novel was out.

Clara sighed and reached for her laptop, determined to get it over with as quickly as possible, to show him that, whatever had happened between the two of them in the last few weeks, it wouldn't keep her from being professional enough to keep their work going. She needed to show him that she wasn't bothered by the breakup.

Clara opened her e-mails and started typing.

 _Hello John,_

 _I never had the chance to tell you this earlier, but it's kind of important, so I'm hoping you won't delete this e-mail straight away without reading it. I've read your science fiction novel and I liked it. Okay, that was a lie. I loved it, I truly did, and I've already spoken to my boss about it. Congratulations – your novel is about to get published. If you still want that._

Clara was about to sign her name under it, but then stopped. She had started to be honest with him now and it hadn't been that hard. She could just as well tell him the rest, get it out, be done with it. After taking a deep breath Clara wrote on.

 _I also wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and I realize that either this message is too late or completely irrelevant to you, but there are a few things I'd like to get off my chest. Maybe it'll help us keep a decent professional relationship in the future, maybe it won't. I have no idea._

 _John, I really like you. I've been very good at pretending that I don't, but the truth is that I do. I've enjoyed the time that we've spent together more than I let on, especially the night you took me out to dinner and I fell asleep at your place. Maybe I had even secretly hoped we could be more, but I realize that that isn't what you want and I respect that. I'm sad that you felt the need to end our relationship before it had even begun, but that won't keep me from being a good and fair publisher to you in the future. You have my word on that._

 _Clara_

She closed the lid of her laptop and blew the air out between her teeth after she had sent the message. It wouldn't make a difference, but she just needed John to know that in their professional relationship nothing would change. Now she could begin her process of getting over him. Starting with a shower.

Clara tied her hair in a bun and headed towards the bathroom, washing the last remaining scent of John off her body before she slipped into her pyjamas. It had been a nice, little affair and maybe it was good that he had ended it now before she had fallen in love with him. But why did she feel so empty?

Because secretly she had been in love with The Doctor for months.

Clara shook her head, trying to ban any thought of him from her mind as she walked towards her bedroom. She would sleep and tomorrow it might not look so grim anymore.

Then the doorbell interrupted her in her stride.

Clara raised an eyebrow as she checked her watch. It was almost 10 pm, certainly not the time for visitors. But when she opened the door, Clara found a surprise waiting for her.

"I have things to say," John announced and straightened his back. Clara noticed a rather sorry looking bouquet of flowers in his hand. "First, you're an idiot. Second, I take back what I said earlier."

"What?" she asked him in confusion.

"Third, these are for you," he said and held the flowers in her direction. Clara reached for them only reluctantly.

"Uhm, thanks," she muttered, her gaze shifting between the bouquet and John, "I'm afraid I still don't get it. What are you doing here?"

"I like you," John blurted out and suddenly a large grin spread across his face. "I like you, Clara Oswald, and I only broke up with you because I thought you'd never want more than what we had."

When the meaning of his words had finally sunk in, the first thing Clara felt was joy. Then relief. He liked her back, he actually did. And they had both confessed to it. Then, suddenly, Clara also felt some anger rise of inside her.

She huffed. "Why have you never said anything?"

"Why have _you_ never said anything?" he spat back.

"I thought I was gonna make a fool of myself and I also didn't want to be the first to admit it."

"Well, guess what, I held back for the exact same reasons!"

"That makes us both idiots, not just me," Clara argued angrily.

John rolled his eyes. "Are we seriously bickering again?"

"Yes, we absolutely are!"

Suddenly John stepped forward and Clara could only utter a sound of surprise when their lips collided in a kiss. When she opened her mouth to him Clara was reminded of just what was happening. They had confessed their feelings. John felt the same. He had even brought her flowers. They could be together now and at the realisation of that her anger slowly faded away.

They both broke apart a moment later, giggling.

"Okay," John said eventually, "I agree, we're both idiots."

"Glad you admit it," Clara chuckled, but when she looked at him, into his almost dreamy eyes, she couldn't help but ask. "So, we're good? We're together?"

"Well, you won't get rid of me now," he said with a shrug.

"Not planning to," Clara smiled and bent down to smell the flowers he had brought her.

"Don't get your hopes up. I bought them at a petrol station."

"Charming," she commented, "By the way, the annoying guy at work asked about you. He's wondering whether you'll come back to beat him up."

"Mh," John hummed and for a moment he looked thoughtful, "I might consider stopping by every now and then now that I'm your actual boyfriend. Just to scare him."

Again Clara giggled. "I like the sound of that. _My boyfriend._ "

"I'd feel a little more like that if you would finally invite me in," he said.

"Oh, shut up," Clara laughed and reached for the lapels of his coat, dragging him into her flat before the door fell shut behind them. When they kissed again Clara thought they might never stop bickering even now that they were together. But then again, bickering also had its charm.

 **The End**


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